Lessons of Revenge
by Marguerite Nicholls
Summary: Rose and Dimitri have lived happily ever after. They have a child. A girl named Greta. The Stringoi have never heard of her but are still enraged about Dimitri's betrayal. its been 18 years and only now do they know about Greta. after the academy, receives a threatening letter addressed to Greta they send her away with 2 guardians. Though all does not run smoothly. MATURE CONTENT.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapte 1:**

**Greta POV: **

"Hey, Greta." I look up when I hear my named being said by a Novice named Noah. I look in his direction and he jerks his chin towards the door. "I think you have a visitor." He says. I flick my head behind me and see my dad, Guardian Dimitri Belikov. His eyes rove around the room until he spots me. He motions for me come over to him. I get up off my knees and walk over to him. He leans down so we're the same height. I'm not much shorter than him but still a couple of inches off.

"Sorry to interrupt, vozlyublennyy, but you have to come with me." He says. I frown. "Don't worry. Your not in trouble. I just have to let your instructor know where you're going." I nod and watch as he walks over to one of the guardians keeping watch over the class. I lock eyes with Noah and his friend, Daniel. Noah mouths "what is it?" I shrug just before dad comes back. His eyes drift over to Noah and Daniel. He looks at them sceptically before ushering me off down the hall.

"What's this about?" I ask him. Even though I'm almost his height I still have to look up at him. "I haven't done anything wrong. At least to my memory." I say. He tilts his head to look down at me.

"I'm going to explain it when we get to Headmistress Kirova's office. Guardian Petrov and Alto will be there too." He says. I scowl. I don't particularly like Stan.

"Why Sta- I mean Guardian Alto. Why will he be there?" I ask. Dad doesn't look at me and all he says is.

"It'll be explained, vozlyublennyy." We continue our walk in silence.

When we get to the office, dad holds the door open for me and I walk in. Sitting in the middle of the room, behind her desk is, Kirova. She looks alright for her age. Her hair has started to turn grey at its roots and there are only a few wrinkles that grace her witch-like face. Well, I personally think she looks like a witch.

Off to the sides are Alberta, or formally known as Guardian Petrov, and then next to her, my most hated (and probably the schools) teacher, Stan Alto. Everyone outside of class just calls him Stan, but in class we call him by his formal name, Guardian Alto. He's very known for embarrassing kids for no real reason. I'm pretty sure my mother got her fair share of embarrassment from him in her years.

Both Guardians have there stone faces plastered on. I don't see how they can do that, really.

"Take a seat, Miss Belikov." Kirova gestures to one of the few seats in front of her. I give a polite smile as I sit down in front of her, but I think my expression changes to something more troubled. To ease my 'distress' she says "Your not in trouble, Miss Belikov. We're just here to talk." She says.

"Is this about my English grades? Because I'm trying to get them back on track." I say. My dad stands next to me and looks at me quizzically.

"Your grades are going down?" He asks. I nod

"Yeah. But only in English. We can talk about it later." I say quickly. "So," I look back at Kirova, "what's this about exactly. I can't think of any other reasons I'd be called in unless I _am _in trouble." I explain. Kirova cracks one of her not-so-evil looking smiles, but it quickly leaves her face and she straightens up in her chair.

"Miss Belikov, we have received a letter. Addressed to your father about you." She says slowly, choosing her words well. I notice my dad's head dropping a little. I place a hand on his arm.

"From who exactly?" I question. I can't think of anyone who knows me outside the school apart from my mother, Rose Hathaway, or the queen and her husband, Christian Ozera. But I couldn't think of any reason the queen nor her beloved would find time to write to me.

Kirova frowns, not quite knowing what to say, when Alberta steps forward. In her time, she must have been quite pretty, but the sun and constant work has shed her of it.

"Greta, you know of your father's... Past." She chooses words carefully, knowing that its a touching subject. But I nod all the same. "When Guardian Belikov... Was what he was, he was... Lets say very powerful. And when he was changed back, he gained many enemies among the stringoi. Very old and strong enemies." She says. I feel my father tense up with every word spoken.

My father and mother sat me down at the early age of seven and told me about it, among other things. I don't remember some of it, but I remember after he told me about it I gave him probably the biggest hug I've ever given anyone and told him I was glad I had him and not them. I pretty sure he started to sob.

Back in the office, I just stare at Alberta and don't say a thing. I answer her only to say that I do know what had happened. She continues. "When you were born, everyone in our society was stunned. The first dhampire-dhampire birth. It was incredible. Very soon, more of us were able to pro-create with each other. But that's against the point."

"And what _is_ the point exactly?" I ask her.

"The point, Greta, is that the letter was a threat. Against you and your family." Stan said from his corner of the room.

"A threat from who?"

"The stringoi. When you were born, we tried to keep it as hushed as possible to assure your family's safety. Along with yours. We knew that it would get to the stringoi very soon, but still we did our best." Alberta continued. "This is the first threat we've received." Alberta held up a folded bit of paper I could only guess to be the letter. "This is the first we've heard from them about... Well anything. And they would only take the time to write something if they felt it was severely necessary. " she finished.

"This is really stupid question, but what does this have to do with me?" I ask.

"Because the letter wasn't directed at your mother and father. It was directed at you. It was threading _you, _not them." Stan said. He really look a bit exasperated. Nothing knew there. "From what we know from the date we received this letter, this is probably the first time the stringoi have found out about you." Stan says. He's about to continue when there's a polite knock at the door.

"Come in," Kirova says. And in comes a guardian I've only seen a couple of times around campus. I can't remember his first name but I'm sure it started with an 'S'. "Good of you to join us, Guardian Smith." She says. The guardian doesn't look that old at all. Maybe mid twenties. His hair is blond, his eyes an icy blue colour while his skin is a pale white. He actually looks like one of those sterotypical Swedish people, with the very distinguished features. He's tall, maybe an inch or two taller than me.

"Sorry I'm late, Headmistress Kirova. I was held up with some of the novices." He said and I notice he has a faint accent that I can't put my finger on. Oh, now I remember. He's one of our defence teachers, but only for some of the novice classes. Sadly, he has not graced any of my classes with his gorgeous presence yet, or probably ever will. It's sad really because he's actually quite handsome.

Kirova nods at his comment and gestures for him to join Stan in the corner of the office.

"Greta this is Guardian Sam Smith. He..." Kirova was cut off by my words.

"You teach the defence classes, don't you?" I ask. "My friend, Alice I think, has a couple of classes with you. She says you're a very good teacher." I say and then flush. I don't think I'm meant to be talking in this sort of meeting. But either way he smiles and thanks me. I turn my attention back to Kirova who is giving me a glare. "Sorry." I say. "Go on." Kirova rolls her eyes and tells Stan to continue.

"As I was saying, the stringoi have found out about you. Which is a problem. Do you remember Jillian Mastrano? Why she left?" Stan asks.

"She left because of the threat of Moroi assassins. But that apparently isn't my problem." I say to the room.

"We know this." Alberta says. "But we're going to do the same sort of thing with you."

"What? Ship me off to Palm Springs?" I ask. I really shouldn't have blurted that out because no on but Eddie Castille, my dad and a few other guardians knew the location. But since the Dragomire line has produced three children, two of them sons, the threat on her lessened and she was able to come back to the academy and graduate within two weeks of her return.

"Not to the same location, because its a risk to you, and also predictable. No, we're sending you in the other direction. South-east instead of south-west. Although no alchemist will accompany you."

"So who's coming with me?" It's Kirova who answers my question.

"Well, a couple of guardians have offered their assistance but only two will accompany you." She says and clasp her hands together.

"Which two?" I look around the room.

"Guardian Alto and Guardian Smith will be going with you." Alberta says. I groan. I don't realise I've done it until I get glares from both Kirova and Stan.

"Is something the matter, Miss Belikov?" Stan question is loaded. I hate those type of questions.

"No. Sorry. I just remembered I had an assignment due for... Philosophy. Due tomorrow." I stammer a bit. I hear dad chuckle beside me a murmur something about me being just like 'Roza'. I'm actually sad that my name is just 'Greta', there is no equivalent in Russian for it. Just Greta. Unlike my mother, who's equivalent is 'Roza'. Stupid naming system.

"When do I leave for, where ever it is I'm going?" I ask them hastily. I really wanted to get put of there. Fast.

"We're sending you to Goose Creek in South Carolina..." Alberta starts

"South Carolina! But that's so far away!" I exclaim. "Isn't there somewhere closer?"

"We knew you'd say something like that," dad said. I look up at him with pleading eyes. "I asked them to look for other places, but when I looked I found that its one of the safest places to send you. There are less people in South Carolina than California, though there are enough people to ensure there isn't any suspicion. We're also putting you in the city. You're close to the coast. We also know of a community of Moroi and dhampires near by. You'll be safe there." He says. I know he's thought about all this. He always thinks deeply about stuff like this. I nod but look down at my lap.

"When do I leave?" I ask, not really caring who gave the answer.

"At the end of the week. We'll leave on the Saturday morning and be in South Carolina that evening if we're lucky." Stan says. "We've rented out a house in the otter city."

"Are we going to pose as family members?" I was going to add 'like Jill' but decided against it. Alberta answered

"Yes. Guardian Smith and yourself will pose as siblings while guardian Alto with pose as your father. Greta, you will continue your guardian training with both guardians while away. Guardian Smith as your defence and offence instructor and Guardian Alto as your classroom teacher." She said. "The academy will not set you work but both of your instructors will deal out work they believe necessary. No arguments."

"What about my trials?" I ask. I was nearing the end of my senior year at St Vladimir's, and the main part of that year were my trials.

"We're still debating whether or not you come back to St Vladimir's for them. We don't think so though. We're worried that the stringoi may know of them and attack, we just don't know yet." Dad said. I nod and look back down at my lap.

"Is that all headmistress Kirova?" I ask as I look up.

"Yes, Miss Belikov. You may go back to class now." Kirova said and I got up and moved towards the door, my father in tow. Stan, Alberta and Sam stayed behind. Probably talking more about me.

When I get outside that office, I breathed a sigh of relief. It always felt stuffy in there anyway. When I got to the corridor, I lean against the wall and close my eyes.

"Well, that's... Surprising." I say and open my eyes to see my fathers deep brown ones staring at me. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I was talking to your mother about it and she said that we should wait until you understood it better. We had an argument about it but eventually we both decided that the people who were taking you were there and it was explained in the right way" he hesitated at the last part.

"Will you come and see me? Will mum?" I ask, hoping the answer is yes. But from the look on his face its probably no.

"I can't, and your mother is busy with her duties. It also risks your exposure, and I just want you safe." He put his hand on my cheek and looked at me affectionately. "What have you got on now?"

"Another defence class." I say.

"Come on. I'll take you." He says with a small smile. I huff.

"I thought you were going to say I could have the day off." I sigh as he walks with me down the hallway to my next class.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: **

The week went quickly, and, also considering that the meeting was on Wednesday, I didn't really have time for, well, anything. Everyday after school, dad would come to help me pack my bags. And believe me, it took at least two hours each evening. I have a lot of stuff. Each time we packed, dad would look at me and ask if all of it was necessary. I would look at him in horror and exclaim how important everything was. He would just laugh and murmur something about me being just like my mother.

On Friday night, my father 'insisted' I go to bed early so I can wake up easier. I've been known for sleeping in and missing breakfast on many occasions. It was Saturday morning now and I am, for once, grateful I listened to my father's advice.

My father is a very smart man. When I started pre-school at St Vlad's, he resigned from his charge, Christian Ozera, to come and watch over me at the academy. I know he loved his job guarding the Queen's husband, but he made the sacrifice for his family. I remember when I was about four, when I was still in kindergarten, he came in one day to pick me up. Since most dhampires have no idea who there father was, and that the male moroi left the picking up to their wives, my dad probably looked very out of place walking in to pick me up. The first time he picked me up, I remember seeing him ducking his head when he went through the door so he wouldn't hit it on the frame. When he called out my name, I bounded up to him and he lifted me off the ground and threw me in the air and court me. I giggled and kissed his cheek. He would speak to me in Russian, since I learnt it fluently at the young age of three, and I would reply. I remember the funny looks I got from the other four-year-olds and I would giggle again. Dad would sign me out and then run on the grass with me until I got tired, which was pretty much an hours worth of sprinting.

Now saying good-bye too him was hard. I knew now he was going to try to get his job back guarding Lord Ozera, but he didn't mind if he stayed at the academy. The sky outside was reseeding into dusk. The sky was a dark mirage of orange and pink as the sun faded away slowly. Parked out the front of the academy's big wooden doors was one of its private black SUV's. It had tinted windows and looked very threatening. If the car was a human or a vamp, it would have looked the same.

Standing before it is Guardian Alto, who was talking to the driver, and Guardian Smith. Sam was hurling my many bags into the cars boot. I actually, now, felt embarrassed that I had so many of them with me. I heard the heavy doors of the academy open and close. Looking behind me, I see Kirova accompanied by Alberta. Well, Kirova actually having concern for a student was something new. My mother once told me that, when she was my age, she thought that the only reason Kirova took the job was to have the right to yell at kids for even the slightest of things. Being my fathers daughter, I never really did anything wrong, though I did, according to my peers, have a smart ass and defiant side that I inherited from my mother.

I felt my dad put an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close to him. Kirova and Alberta stopped next to me and said there good-byes. Since my dad was one of the top guardians at the academy, I got to know and become quite close to many of his guardian colleagues. A lot of them were very young, because of an age law that used to be present in our society. Thankfully our queen, Vasilisa Dragomire, changed it as soon as she could, but even though the law was abolished, the under trained dhampires weren't put back into school.

Alberta was clearing some things with Stan and Sam and Kirova leaves soon after, saying she had a meetings with the school board. My father's arm was still around me and he pulled me into a hug. He murmured things to me in Russian, saying that I would be ok and that he'd call tonight when we arrived. I don't why I started to cry but I did. My body shook and he held me tighter. Dad kept murmuring things to me and held me for a long time. When I pulled back I also heard the heavy doors open and close once again and I look up to see Hamish Ozera, Christian and Lissa's son.

Moroi are naturally tall and slim. Also very pale and dislike the sun (which is why we are awake during the human night and sleep during the human day), but Hamish looks different from most of the other Moroi at the academy. He's got a slight tan, hard to equire when you rarely go out in the sun. Also he's far more built than most of the other Moroi guys, not like the male novices and guardians, but pretty good for his kind. He looks like his mother I think, but has his fathers jet black hair and icy blue eyes. He's also kind like his mother but has his father's snarky side. He's like a reverse of me.

"Hey Greta!" He yells. "You forgot to say good bye to someone!" Alberta and Stan look up at me and say something about me not telling anybody. I mouth back 'I didn't'. I quickly look back at Hamish. It's such a pity he's a Moroi because I have a slight crush on him, but there's no point in saying it because Moroi-dhampire relationships never last. Usually, Moroi men are interested in Dhampire women because they have a more curvy figure than the Moroi women. But the relations don't last long. Most of the time, the Moroi men sleep with dhampire women, get them pregnant and then leave them to marry one of there own. Also, since he's the queen's first born son and eldest child, there is no way in the world, no matter how much Aunty Lissa loves me, that she would let Hamish even consider dating me.

"I'll leave you two." Dad whispers in my ear and looks at Hamish before walks off to join Alberta and Stan. I watch as he slinks off, but I see a smile on his face. Damn. I must be obvious. Looking back at Hamish I say:

"I was sure I'd remembered everyone." I say. "But the list of students was zilch because _no one _was _supposed _to know. How'd you find out?" I ask.

"I was talking to my mum and she accidentally mentioned it." He says.

"Ah, right. Well here I am. Ready to go to my secret location."

"Where is this 'secret location'? Is it L.A.? Because that would be awesome! Beaches and all that." He says.

"You guys don't go to the beach, let alone in the sun."

"That's why they invented umbrellas. And also since your avoiding my question I take it you can't tell me where your going. Or anybody." He inquires.

"Nope. There's a thing about secrets, nobody is really meant to know them." I say. "Wait, you haven't told anyone, have you?" He looks at me like I've said something crazy.

"I'm not that stupid. If told just one person, do you know how fast that would travel around? Faster than... Well I don't know, but it would be _fast_." Hamish makes a swooshing sound and moves his arm in a sort of wave motion. "Anyway, when I heard from my mum, I asked for details and she said you were leaving this morning, so I, for once, set my alarm and got up on time." He says

"Alert the press." I mumble. "I never knew you could actually wake up early."

"Well, I do need my beauty sleep. This face comes with a price after all." At this he struck a pose that I had to laugh at. He looked ridiculous.

From the SUV, I hear my dad calling me, saying that it was time to get in. I looked down at me watch and saw it was about 6 p.m. We had a flight at 9pm but had to be there earlier to check in and such. It also didn't help that be airport was at least an hour away.

"So this is goodbye, huh." Hamish says. I turn back to look at him with sad eyes.

"Yeah, but I'll be back soon. I hope anyway." I say quietly. I look up into his face and he smiles sadly.

"Aw, come here." Hamish says and holds out his arms. I move into them and hug him. "This would be so much better if you were shorter." Hamish says into my hair.

"Don't ruin the moment," I step out of his arms. I look at his face again and he's smiling at me. I can't really say smiling down at me because really we are both the same height.

"Come on, Greta. We gotta get going." I hear Stan say loudly behind me.

"I'm coming!" I yell back and quickly look back at Hamish. My eyes just ghost over him when grabs my arms and pulls me into another hug.

"Take care Greta. Be careful." He says into my hair. The words are so quiet that I barely hear them. I step out of his arms, turn on my heels and walk towards my father and the other guardians.

I wrap my arms around myself as a cool wind starts blowing. Even with my big jacket on, I still feel the cold. As I approach, Stan makes his way to the driver seat while Sam goes to the passenger seat. Alberta moves back to where Hamish was standing and looks at him sceptically. Hamish on the other hand looks uncomfortable. He has his hands in his pockets and a strange look in his eyes. But my eyes flicked off Hamish and land in front of me, on my dad.

His eyes are glued on my face. Usually his face is passive, showing no emotion. But now I see sadness and anxiety. He places a warm hand on my cheek and leans down to kiss my forehead. He stays there for a couple of seconds before moving back.

"You look worried, Dad." I say. He gives me a small smile.

"In a sense, yes." His face darkens. "You shouldn't be the one facing the consequences of my actions, Greta." Dimitri gets a far off and angry look in his eyes, and I know he's in a different place. One full of hatred and rage towards the stringoi.

"Hey," I say softly. "It's OK. I'm going to be fine. I have strong Belikov and Hathaway blood in me, it's going to take a lot to bring me down." At my words, his face brightens a bit. He reaches out and pulls me to him in a tight hug.

We hold each other for what seems like ages. I don't want to leave his arms. I feel like I'm five again when I became sad. He would hold me for a long time, waiting until I fell asleep in his grasp, before lifting me up and putting me into my bed.

I always felt small in his arms. There was this protective air that seemed to buzzed around him. He made me feel warm inside and out. I closed my eyes just before he pulled away. He leans down and plants one more kiss on my forehead while I fight the urge to cry again.

"You've got to get going, Greta. You'll miss your flight otherwise." He says and I nod. I don't think I can manage to say anything right now without to sounding weak. "I'll miss you, vozlyublennyy. Please be careful." I nod again. "I love you so much, Greta." He says.

I smile a little. "I love you too dad. I love you so much." I whisper. Dimitri steps forward and opens the back door of the car for me. I step up and sit down on the leather seat. I think this car may be reasonably new, considering it has that really nice new-car smell.

Dad leans down so he can see me through the car door and smiles sadly at me.

"I love you." He says again. "Take care, my darling." He leans down and kisses my forehead once more before closing the door.

I hear engine rev and we start moving. I look back quickly at Dimitri and Hamish. They both look sad to see me go, but I remind myself I could be coming back quickly. But I rather doubt it, but the chance is still there. Hamish lifts his arm and waves goodbye to me and I smile. I don't see Alberta anywhere and I take it she went back inside the school. My dad just stands there with a distant look on his face. I don't quite know what to make of it.

The SUV slowly drives up the forecourt of the school. When we reach the gates we stop while Stan talks to the guardian on duty. Soon enough they open the gates for us. The engine revs again and we move faster out the iron gates of the school and drive onto the road.

I pull out my iPod and the book I brought with. I press play and the Gorillaz song continues to play from where I stopped it last. I don't open my book though. I don't feel like reading right now so I just resort to looking out the window at the darkening sky. The song finishes and changes to some The Rolling Stones. I continue staring out the glass until we reach the airport an hour later.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: **

The flight from Montana to Goose Creek wasn't long. Perhaps 3 hours at the most. I knew the academy had private jets but they were all in use right now. Some Moroi dilemma up at court had come up and more of the high-up royal families had requested that their children were flown up to see their parents for a couple of weeks.

We all go down to the baggage carousel and collect our bags. Stan, surprising, had a lot of bags, but none compared to me. I now really feel self conscious at how many I have. I blush and look down until we get outside. As we pass though the door, I notice a dark guy standing outside in one of the corners of the concrete. He's not doing anything, just staring at us, or well me, with his shaded dark gaze. He watches our every move. There's something's off about him. His intense stare, his body posture, his height. Height? He's really tall, probably 6"6 or something. Something in me screams that there's something wrong about him, but when I look at his eyes they seem normal, no red in them. I quickly look away._You're over thinking this. You're just aware that there may be threats around. _I think. I try to soothe myself but the fact that its night doesn't help either. And when I look back at where the man was standing, he's no longer there. 

Stan flags down a taxi with some effort. We hop inside and Sam gives the driver the location. The cabby nods and starts driving. Something cold has seeped into my bones, the fact that I don't know where I am, and that I don't know the quickest way out doesn't really aid my feeling of discomfort. I've never really been outside of Montana before. I've been to the royal court a couple of times to see my mother, but other than that I haven't been really anywhere, so the experience of being so far away from home is all new.

You know when you go some place new and everything seems so much better than it is back home? I don't get that feeling. Not at all. Feeling itself was lost to me. Maybe it was because of the reason I'm here. Maybe because I already feel home sick. Or that creepy man. But for whatever reason, I don't feel happy at all.

We move onto the highway. It doesn't take long to get to the centre of the city. It's full of lights and action. People walking on the streets in groups. Expensive looking car push and shove each other through the roads, trying to get home quickly. I suspect that it's busier because its Saturday night for humans and only morning for us.

We coast through the city and out of the lights, going into a quieter, darker place in one of the neighbourhoods. There are street lights on each side of the road on the pavement and we occasionally pass pedestrians walking with each other on their commutes home. No one has really talked since we left Montana and the the cab ride it quiet. It doesn't feel awkward but stiff. I suppose guardians are like that, all stoic.

We reach a house in one richer looking parts of one of the suburbs. The house in front of me looks huge. And I mean huge. And I've only seen one side of the outside of the house, so the insides must be massive.

Stan pays the cabby some money and bids him goodnight before he drives off into the night. Stan comes up next to me and just stands there.

"Welcome home." He says sarcastically before walking to the door and opening it. I hesitate before grabbing my bags, stepping forward and walking through the door. Sam comes in behind me. Stan's located the kitchen and the living room and calls out to us. I put my bags in a corner at the door before walking towards Stan's voice.

Behind me is the front door, and in front of me is one of the most luxurious spaces I've ever seen. The floor is a shiny porcelain tile and it paves pretty much the whole first floor. If your looking straight forward, the first thing you'd see is an open gas fire place and a stone chimney thing going up into the ceiling. On either side of that there is a huge glass window, like a fish bowl. You can see a pretty view of the city lights. I'm sure were up on a sort of slope. The kitchen island counter is looking through the right hand side window, and there's and isle in between it and the stove part of the kitchen.

When you walk in, the left hand side of wall is shorter than the right to make room for a small living room. The whole area of the kitchen, fire place and living room are all open. There are no doors in between each room.

Hung on the creamy stone wall is a flat screen TV. Against the opposite wall the TV is on is a long black sofa. It stretches from one end of the small room to the other and turns sharply for a small part of the other side of the wall. Books are lined up next to each other of the TV in a small space in the wall. They look like more of those showy books that you never read but are just around to make you look sophisticated or something. The only thing that was between the kitchen and living room was a small step. On the right side of the small living room was a painted black metal spiral staircase that I predict went up into one of the bedrooms up in the rafters.

It didn't look homey or cozy. More cold and stone faced. _Like the guardians. _I think to myself and smile at the sentiment, not that guardians are cold in any way.

Sam has walked over to the window and is gazing out of it, his face blank. Stan meanwhile is in the kitchen, checking where everything is. Maybe thinking about what he could use to fight off intruders if needed.

I just stood there like a donkey, not quite knowing what to do. My stomach rumbled.

"Sorry to ask, but what's for dinner?" I don't particularly care who gives me the answer, I just want the food they can offer me. Sam turns away from the window and looks at Stan.

"We don't have any food," Sam says, "but I'm sure we could order some pizza." I smile at this. I do really love pizza and it was probably one of the quickest things to get right now, so I nod at Sam's answer. Stan doesn't look pleased though.

"It's a security risk." He says, "Get up Google and see how far it is and I can pick it up." Well, I didn't actually expect him to agree but I'm not going to argue since its pizza.

I grab my phone and google pizza restaurants in the area. I select one that's looks nice and I order for everyone. Getting off the phone, I tell Stan the address while he calls a cab. Forty five minutes later we have our pizza and everyone is sitting at the dinning room table, eating.

It feels strange eating with guardians, especially Stan since he's actually one of my teachers and we often don't get along with each other. But right now he seems, dare I say, normal. Maybe even like a father. I almost shiver at the thought. Sam notices my tense expression and looks at me funny.

"What's wrong?" He asks. He's put his pizza slice down and stares at me with his depthless icy blue eyes. I shrug not quite knowing what to say.

"It just feels weird." I say. "Eating with you guys." It sounds really bad when I say it out loud. I blush and look down. "Just a new feeling is all." I take a bite of my pizza slice to avoid speaking and embarrassing myself. I have sudden feeling skittishness and jumpiness, like I have shivers inside my stomach. I hate this feeling, and I have no idea why it has reared it's ugly head now.

I look towards the window and gaze out it, letting my mind slip away. It's one of those times where my mind just folds back in on itself and I forget everything around me. I must look blank because, Sam I think, waves his hand in front of my face and clicks a couple of times before I shake my head and look around the room again.

"Greta? You in there?" Sam says smiling. He looks lovely when he smiles. Far better than his usual straight face.

"What? Yeah I'm fine. Just spaced out for a second there." I say in reply. I look at Stan and see that he's scowling his usual scowl. There are two sides to him, I realise, a smart-ass and arrogant side and then the exasperated, annoyed and angry side. Sadly, there's no happy and/or supportive side. I'm actually really glad he never had kids. Or a wife.

"I'm going to go figure out the fire. I'm cold." I quickly get up from the table and take my plate to the sink before rinsing it lightly. After drying my hands, I stroll over to the gas fire on the other side of the room and squat down and look at the words printed along its metal front. All it says is to push a certain button and that it should come on.

I look for said button and find it somewhere near the front left hand side. It's red and small. Really it looks like a child's toy button that makes sound when pressed. But either way I press it and am rewarded when I hear the gas and then the formation of blue and red flames slithering up from the holes in its grate.

I sigh and hold my hands out to the fire as I try to warm them. It must get cold here at night and since the house so far is all stone, it must follow in the outside's temperatures. I wrap my jacket more tightly around me and shiver.

I plunk down on the soft rug in front of the fireplace and just sit there absorbing the warmth of the fire. My mind wanders to my father back at St Vladimir's. I'm pretty sure we're still in the same time zone, but I should check. I think about calling him, and I decide to call him before I go to bed tonight. I suddenly yawn, and I realise I'm exhausted, even though technically it's morning for me. I could take a nap but decide against it, it sounds really lazy to take a nap first thing in the morning.

I look back towards Stan and Sam and see their engaged in a guardian conversation about guarding strategies. Which one is better and provides the most protection. But over the years the Moroi have become more daring and some have even consented into offensive magic use. It became legal for Moroi to fight a couple of years ago and it put a little less strain on the guardians. Also, the number of Moroi and dhampire deaths caused by stringoi attacks dropped dramatically. When the law was just put in place, the stringoi didn't even try to attack any Moroi nor dhampire at all for at least three months. Which by their standards is really a really long time.

"When do you guys start my lessons?" I inquire when they've finished their conversation that I lost track of. I take it that Stan's argument won, since he's got his 'victory' smirk on. Both guardians turn towards me when I speak.

"Your choice." Sam responds. "We can start now and unpack when we can or we can start tomorrow and relax now." He smiles his blinding smile at me.

"You really have to ask?" I say

"Well, that's settled. We'll start now." Stan says and he tries to make a joke. When neither of us say anything, he scowls again and says in a monotone voice "joking." I bite my lip. It's a really bad habit. I get up from my place in front of the fire and walk to pick up my bags.

"We'll I'm going to find myself a bedroom and un pack." I say with a sigh.

"There are three bedrooms here. One up those stairs." Stan points up to the stairs. "Another one is there." This time he pointed to a door pretty much opposite the table at the start of the hallway. "And the last one is a little bit down the hall." He pauses a bit. "I don't want you taking the up stairs. Just if your down here you'll be easier to keep an eye on." I roll my eyes at him.

"You make it sound like I'm some naughty child." I say. Sam mutters something I can't hear, but I ignore him.

"Just pick one of the other two. I've got the top one." He says. It turn my body in Sam's direction, and say:

"Well, since Stan's taken care of." Stan coughs and I look back at him in annoyance. He's glaring at me and I roll my eyes. "My apologies," I start, "since _Guardian Alto _has been taken care of, what room do you want? I don't mind which one I get and since you are taking the time to watch over me, which, may I add, I think is completely unnecessary, you get first dibs on the room you want." I finish and stare at him. Sam looks back at me with his freezing blue eyes and he's smiling. _Smiley Sam, _I think.

"I'll take the one closer to the kitchen. For safety and food." Sam isn't like the other young guardians I've met. He's looser, but you can tell in any time of danger you could rely on him to protect you. Even though many of the guardians at the academy are youngish, they're very up-tight for some reason that I don't understand. Sam, even though I've only known him for, a week or so, already I can tell he's different. Fun but with a sense of responsibility.

"Ok. Well I've got the one down the hall then. In that case I'm going to unpack and take a nap." I say and Stan snorts. "What's your problem, Alto?"

"It's _Guardian _Alto to you." Stan smirks at me, why he is, I have no idea. "It's still vaguely early in the morning for us. Why are you taking a nap?"

"I thought we had to go on to the human schedule." I say. "At least that's what my dad said to me." I frown. I miss him already. "He said it would be better if I went on human time instead, because its safer." He did actually say that while we were packing one day. In the corner of my eye I spot a phone and think about calling him again, but I think I'll do it after I unpack.

"I think it's a good idea." Sam says, "When you go out, you'll be in daylight and there is a far less chance of being attacked." No one in the guardian world nowadays says there's no chance of attack in daylight. Over the years, the guardians have realised more and more that the stringoi have humans working for them.

Tempted by eternal life and power, the humans fall into the hands of the cold undead and do their bidding in the daylight while the stringoi shy away from the sun and wait for the fall of night.

My mum even told me that she was court in one of those situations. It was when she was younger, about my age, when the school was on a ski trip because of some Moroi and dhampire massacres. She made it out with her guardian friend, Eddie Castille, and two Moroi, Christian Ozera and Mia Rinaldi. Her good friend Mason wasn't so lucky. From what she said, one of the two stringoi snapped his neck and he died instantly.

I have never actually seen a stringoi for myself. In a way, I'm really glad. I don't particularly want to ever see one if I can help it. Firstly, because it means that the Moroi I'm guarding will be safe, a secondly, I'm not at school, with my dad and my friends, because of them. Plus, I feel as though they have some sort of connection with my family because of dad. I know that he hates what he did in his past and that he hates them in general, as most guardians do.

"See, Stan." I begin and he scowls. "Oh, stop giving me that look. I'm not going to call you anything else, so deal with it. Besides I'm not in school, remember. No need for formalities." I say. "Anyway, I'm going to unpack like I said before. Then go to sleep." I finish and grab my bags and drag them to my room at the end of the corridor and open the door to my bedroom.

I plunk my bags down in a corner, switch the lights on, close the door and then drop myself in a heap on the soft, cloud-like bed and close my eyes. I don't realise I've fallen asleep until the late morning sun shines through my open window.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: **

Eventually, I find my self uncomfortable. I get up groggily and put on my cotton pyjama top, but don't bother with shorts or pants, and get back into bed as my body is still tired, probably because of the switch of day-and-night times. But soon enough, I'm back in a dreamless sleep.

The house is peaceful, not a sound can be heard. I am, for the first time on this 'trip', grateful that the noise of the academy isn't all around me... That is until there is a loud banging on my door a few hours later. I groan and thrown something at the door.

"Go away." I mumble. "I'm sleeping." I squeeze my eyes shut as tightly as I can, but that insistent banging is so annoying. I groan again in frustration. "Fine. I'm coming. Hold your horses." I moan.

I get out from under the warm covers and mumble Russian curses under my breath as I walk to the door with my eyes closed. I feel for the door knob and twist when I locate it. I shiver as the chill of the morning breeze comes through the window again. And I realise just as I open the door, I'm half naked. _Please don't be Stan! Please don't be Stan! _Not that I wanted either guardian seeing me like this, but I'd much rather have Sam look at me than Stan.

Thankfully, it isn't Stan. Sam stands in front of me in loose fitting pants and a t-shirt. He looks very casual, but I take it he and Stan had figured out the watches and that Sam got the day watch. I stare at him, waiting for him to give me a good reason for waking me up. But he doesn't say anything. All he does it look at me for a second or so before averting his eyes to his shoes.

"Sorry for waking you, Miss-" I cut him off.

"No 'Miss Belikov'. Just Greta." I say and gesture for him to continue.

"Right. As I was saying, sorry for waking you up. You must be tired, but we have to train. I forgot to tell you last night. We're going to train every morning at nine."

"Right. OK."

"Which happens to be-" he look down at his watch. "-right now."

"Thanks for the warning." I mutter, "Give me five minutes." He nods and leaves while I close the door.

I quickly get dressed in track pants and a tank top. Hastily, I brush my teeth. Walking into the kitchen, I get a glass and fill it with water. Gulping it down, I spot the back door and see its ajar. Training the backyard. _That's different, _I think. Whatever.

Finishing my glass of water, I set the empty glass down. I walk over to the door that leads to a huge backyard. The morning air is fresh, and I breathe it in. It's not cold really, just a bit chilly.

In the middle of the grass stands Sam. From where I stand he looks really tall and with the morning sun in front of him, he's outlined with golden light. This reminds me of how my mum and dad got together. He was her mentor and they fell in love. That is definitely not going to happen. As we pose as family, he feels more like a big brother than a lover. Totally a big brother feel.

I don't think he's seen me yet. Should I call up this name? But a better idea comes to me and I tip-toe up to him. I lift my foot and snap a twig. I hear him softly laugh.

"I knew you were there. Even before the branch snapped." He chuckles. God damn, he's good. "You were going to try and tackle me, weren't you?" Am I that predictable, and I myself voice.

"Am I really that predictable?" I ask. Sam turns to face me.

"Yes and no. I've just had a lot of novices try it. And also, you have some of that Hathaway blood running through you. I've met your mother and your father told me a lot about her-"

I cut him off. "And he went on and on about how much he loves her, right? He often does that with me. I just ask if I can see her soon and he goes off on a tangent about her, 'her hair, her eyes, her smile.'" I say and Sam laughs again.

"I was going to say, that he told me she tried to do the same thing with him when she first started training with him." He smiles his one hundred watt smile.

"She told me about that when I was younger." I say. We stay silent for a few second before Sam says:

"Right, we have to start training. I don't take your classes, so what have you been doing? I'm pretty sure all the dhampire classes do the same thing, but yours may differ a bit to mine." He looked at me expectantly, waiting for my answer.

"Well, if I say stakes, would you believe me?" I ask

"No, because the novices are doing that next term." Sam smirks. Damn.

"Advanced manoeuvres. Offensive and defence. Resourcefulness." I say truthfully. "All that." Sam considers this for a while. I see the wheels turning in his head. Finally he says

"What have you been doing in defence?"

"How to defend yourself and others from someone one taller, stronger and faster than yourself." I say matter-of-factly. My hands on are on my hips and I stare at him.

"Well then, lets start." Sam turns and walks further across the huge, grassy yard. He gestures for me to follow. "I want you to punch me as hard as you can." He says. I look at him, confused. "Hit me, Greta. Hit me as if you life depends on it."

"Wait, you were serious?"

"Do I look serious?" And believe me, he did. His features were tense and hard. When I see his face I don't hesitate. _Don't hesitate. Don't hesitate. _I lift my fisted hand and send it flying at his face...

...except it never makes it. As quick as lightning, Sam's right hand is up and he catches my fist, turns me around and presses it into my back, just like the movies. And by God does it hurt. My shoulder feels strained and the muscles in my arm are tensed as I try to escape his hard grasp. But as I try, his grip tightens and the pain increases. I whimper and he lets me go, thank The Lord.

I turn back around and roll my shoulder to make sure it's still connected to me. "What the hell. You said I could punch you." I exclaim. He chuckles.

"First thing, you weren't expecting any defence from me. Did you really think I would let you hit me with no resistance from the other side? Secondly, your stance was sloppy, that is half the reason I was able to pin your arm. Thirdly, you need more force. As you said before, and have probably learnt in the past, your opponents will be stronger than you and will be able to withstand more than a dhampire can."

It was a sad reality but more often than not our undead enemy were stronger than us because of years of feeding on Moroi, dhampire and human blood. The more they drink, the stronger they become.

"I want you to try again. With more force and a better stance. We will not stop until you successfully land a punch on me." Sam shifts into his fighting stance and I try to copy it. My dad has taught me how to thrown decent punches and kicks, but I've never been able to beat him. He's just too good. So right now with Sam, I feel as if I can prove something to myself.

Distracted by my thoughts I barely see Sam's fist coming towards me. I just evade it by about a millimetre. In a second, I'm back on focus. My fist comes in contact with his abdomen. Sam grunts but doesn't falter.

His fist comes up again and I hastily block it without effort. I twist his like he did me, but he quickly manoeuvres out of my grasp. I see an opening and my leg lashes out and kicks the back of his legs. Sam stumbles a little but rights himself almost instantly. Damn, he's good.

His eyes are fierce and focused on my defeat. I won't let him though. He's seen what I can do, and assesses my next moves. But I barely give him the time. I let my fists give him a string of hard punches to his belly, chest and finally his face. Sam falls to ground and I follow, keen to finish him off. I raise my fist once more and punch his face with as much force I can muster.

I slam my palm down on his chest and murmur "dead.". I get up off my knees and brush some grass blades from my knees. After fixing myself, I offer a hand down to Sam and he grabs it, while I pull him to his feet.

When Sam's on two legs again, he just stares at me. "Well? Any good?"

"Very good. I liked the last couple of punches at the end. A very good move. Did Guardian Belikov teach you that?" I nod.

"He teaches a few things to me in his spare time." I say. Sam smiles but it turns into a grimace. I did hit him pretty hard. "Do you want ice?" I ask. Sam shakes his head.

"No. I'll be fine. Us guardians are tough." He says. "That was a very good offensive round. Very good. Now, I want you to focus more on the defence."

I nod. For the next hour or so, Sam teaches me more techniques and defence strategies. This must be his specialty. He's seems excited, to say the least, about teaching me this. Sam shows me ways to position my body in a way that will protect more of the vital parts of me.

At the end of the lesson, Sam shows me some cool-down stretches and we walk back together to the house to have breakfast.

That is until we realise there's nothing to eat. And right at that moment my stomach grumbles and feel how hungry I am.

"Well, that's a blow." I say and my belly grumbles again. I look at Sam and I see that he's thinking. "I could walk down and get some stuff if you like."

"If you do then I have to come." Sam says.

"So come. I'm hungry and on the way here last night I saw some kind of supermarket. It seemed close. We could be there and back in half an hour. Forty five minutes at the most."

Sam nods his head. "Ok. I'll grab the keys. Bring your phone." Is all he says and moves off to get the house keys. I go to my room and grab my phone. When I click the home button I see that I have less than fifty percent battery. It'll be fine. I probably won't even use it.

I retire to the kitchen and Sam stands there waiting. He's staring out the window again but seems to be alert. In one of his hands he hold keys and I notice in one of his belt loops he carries a sliver stake.

"Have you carrying that the whole time?" I ask. Sam looks up at me with a confused appearance. I point at his belt and he looks down.

"The stake?" He questions and I nod. "Yes. We have to. Just for safety reasons." I nod again, my mind wandering to somewhere else.

When I was twelve, I was so enthusiastic about being a guardian that I'm pretty sure I annoyed every teacher, student and guardian on campus from my constant rambling. It's now one of those memories that I look back on now and cringe.

On one occasion, I had felt restless and I decided to look through my dad's stuff to see if I could find his stake. I had rummaged through his draws for hours trying to find his spare one and eventually I did, after, of course, tearing the room apart.

At that age, I had never really seen one up close, just quick glances here and there, so you can imagine my excitement at _holding _one. I just gazed at it for a while. I was mesmerised by its silvery gleam and the way it felt in my small hands.

Quickly, my gaze flickered to my father's bed, which was surprisingly untouched. I spotted the pillows. There were only two, seeing as it was only a double bed (I don't really want to imagine what went on it though). But two was enough. I felt the sudden urge to stab them, because firstly they were the only filled-in thing in the room and secondly because I was twelve and couldn't help it.

I reach for the first one threw it in the air and, with all my force, drove the stake through the middle of it. It was harder than I thought, but that may have been the fact that it was in mid air. I saw a chair in one of the corners of the room. Hastily, I grabbed the second pillow and leaned it against the chair. I raised the stake again and struck the pillow in it's middle. Back then, I pictured it as the heart of a stringoi. I would imagine myself in the middle of a brawl with a stake in hand. I was powerful. I felt empowered. The stringoi would move and give me an opening and I would take the opportunity. My stake would lash out and make its mark. I would have won. I would have one every time. No matter what.

I stood back up and gazed at the pillow. It had a great big whole in it now. I smiled down at it... Until I heard the door open and close. I gasped and turned to see the handsome face of my dad. He didn't look angry. Just amused. _He obviously hasn't seen what I did to his room. _Though he didn't seem to notice the destruction around him. His eyes were on me.

I place my hands behind my back, trying to hide the stake from him. Dad turned his head to face his bed, it was probably the only neat thing in the room.

Dad walks to the bed and grabs the first pillow I staked. He holds it up and looks at it.

"It looks like I'll need some more of these." He said and dropped his arm. Dad looked at me. "My stake, Greta." He says. I look at the floor and walk over to him. I bring one of my hands around and pass him his stake. Dad gently takes it from my hands and puts it on the far end of the bed. "Go back to your room, Greta," he said and looks around the room. He seems to finally notice the mess. "I have some cleaning up to do." He smiled at me then and left in a hurry.

"Greta? Did you hear what I just said?" I hear Sam say and snap back into the here and now. I shake my head. I just totally zoned out and missed everything he said

"What?" I say stupidly. He stares at me with a slight grin in his face.

"I said are you ready to go?" He says again. I wonder how many times he said that to me.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry, my mind was wandering." I say. Sam just continues smiling. I've never see a guardian smile so much. It's weird.

"Shall we." Sam gestures to the front down and I start to move forward towards it.

"Why, thank you."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

The shops near the house were quite busy, considering it was a Sunday morning. The sun was out and it felt glorious. Since everyone at St Vladimir's ran on Moroi time, none of us really saw, let alone felt, the sun. I haven't been standing in it for ages.

Back at the house I hadn't gotten changed so I was still in my trackies and tank top. The top didn't show that much skin, but enough for me to feel the warmth of the sun on my arms, chest, neck and a bit of my back. I tossed my head back and closed my eyes. I really shouldn't be doing that since I'm walking on the street with a road next to me.

Sam and I are in a smallish village not far from the house. People were walking in front and behind us. BMW's and Mercedes were pretty much the only cars parked on the street. A lot of the people in the village looked about fifty or so. _Old rich people. _

I don't see a single person who looks our age. It's sort of scary.

Sam and I keep walking until we get to a bakery. It looks quant but inside costumers are everywhere. We decide that this will do for breakfast. Sam holds the door open for me and I thank him. In one part of the room, a few tables are set up while on the other side, there's a glass cabinet displaying all the different pastries, pies and other tasty treats on offer.

Though there are many people around, it's reasonably quiet. All of them are drinking coffee and reading _The_ _Times. _Sam walks ahead of me and goes up to the counter.

There is a young Asian girl there. She's probably the first person who looks like she's in her twenties. I look around a notice all the servers are the same. Young and beautiful. The boys are tall and have a kind look in their eyes, while the girls are a little shorter but have long flowing hair, but no less attractive.

I catch the eyes of a tall blond boy and he smiles at me. I quickly look away and blush. I stand a little closer to Sam and I hope it looks as though I'm with my 'protective, big brother.'

"What do you want, Greta?" Sam asks me. I look at him and he smiles. "Mind wandering again?" I blush harder and look at the cashier.

"I'll just have a hot chocolate and a croissant." I say in a rush. The girl nods and taps her fingers on the screen in front of her. Looking back up, she hands Sam a number. I see Sam take out his wallet, but I place a hand on his arm. "I'll get it." I say and he nods. I dig through my pockets and find a twenty dollar bill and hand it to the girl. She thanks me and gives me my change.

Sam grabs the number and we head off to find a table. I catch the eyes of the blond boy. He smiles at me again, a very nice smile. His face is handsome. He's actually very beautiful but extraordinarily pale. I cast my eyes down and look at his name tag. 'Leon' it says. It suits him very well. It's not the greatest name in the world, but he's probably one of the few Leon's who can make it work.

I faintly hear Sam saying something and I whip my head away from Leon's gaze and face Sam's. "What?" I ask in confusion, but his eyes have turned away from me and are staring around me. I turn my head and see he's looking at Leon. His smile no longer graces his face and he stares right back at Sam.

"Come on, Greta." Is all he says and leads me away to a table in the corner. I don't look at Sam as we sit down, and I realise I'm blushing again. I've never blushed so much in such a short period of time. I hear Sam chuckle. "Greta, you're not here to check out the waiters."

I look up at Sam and see he's smiling at me. He really is Smily Sam. And I say as much.

"You smile a lot for a guardian." I say in a monotone voice. "No offence to Stan or the others, but I've never seen a guardian, let alone a male guardian, smile so much." I didn't know it was possible, but his smile seems to get brighter.

"I never noticed." He responds. "No one's ever commented on it before." I chuckle.

"Oh, believe me. They have." When he looks confused I roll my eyes. "The novice girls you have in your classes. Most of them are friends of mine, and they go on and on about you." I try one of my friends voices. "'Oh the way his eyes shine. His smile!'" I gush. "I hadn't even met you then, and I had to listen to that nearly everyday. I was beginning to curse your name, Sam Smith." I finish.

"Is that right? Well, I'm pleased I'm in such high demand, but the thing is... I'm not exactly on your team." Sam looks down as if he's ashamed.

"Wait. You're... You're gay?" I ask. Stupid question, didn't he just say that before. "I mean, you don't act like... You are." I silently curse myself. "Sorry that sounded really bad."

"It's OK. A lot of people are stunned when I tell them." He says.

"I was working in stereotypes. Back at the academy, there were a couple of Moroi who were homosexual. They were all so nice, but they acted differently than you do. More... I don't know how to put it without sounding discriminating."

"No. I know what you mean. It's alright." Sam says. He's about to go on when the food and drinks come. The waitress puts the plates down and her gaze lingers on Sam. He smiles and thanks her. She flushes and walks off. I pick up my hot chocolate and gesture after her.

"Do you get that a lot?" I say. "Because I'm going to admit it, you are an attractive guy. And there's this thing that women find gay men more attractive."

"Well, seeing as I'm a guardian at the academy, and have been there for a while I didn't really get out much. There was a couple of times, when we went on shopping trips with some of the Moroi. A lot of the younger guardians got looks from the human women."

"Must've boosted your egos quite a bit." I take a sip of my hot chocolate and it has to be one of the best things I've ever tasted.

"Sure. Guardians in academies don't get out as much as those who have singular Moroi charges. So, the looks and whispered comments we got were, I don't know, nice."

"My parents, their relationship is frowned upon by most of the dhampires and Moroi. Do you face that sort of thing?" I sounded like a news reporter as I said the last thing. I take another sip, or gulp, of my hot chocolate to stop more words from coming out.

"Yes and no. It's not direct, but some Moroi look at me with... I don't quite know how to describe it. Disdain maybe. Disapproving is a better word." Sam lifts his coffee I didn't notice he'd ordered and takes a sip of it. I break a bit of my croissant off and dipped it in my hot chocolate.

I'd done this since I was little. During the time mum was pregnant with me, the two things she craved most were croissants and hot chocolate. I remember my dad telling me he had a surplus of each stored away in the house over the nine months I was in her stomach.

So, when I was able to eat solid food, my mother insisted that hot chocolate and a croissant be one of the first foods I ate, which was funny because she is in no way French.

She bought me them one day. Mum set me down in my highchair and took the top of my hot chocolate off. Placing down the grease stained bag, she would reach into it and grab the croissant and dip it in the hot chocolate. She fed it to me by hand and after I would make qhooing sounds, so she told me, saying that is wanted more.

Back in the bakery, I raise my hand and put the hot chocolate doused croissant in my mouth. I look back at Sam.

"I've never heard of any guardians being homosexual." I say.

"Well, a lot of us keep personal things to ourselves, but I just thought its better for myself if I told some people. In case I do something I can't explain. I don't know what though." He smiles at me. "You're OK with it, right?" Sam now looks nervous.

"Yeah . Why wouldn't I be? I have nothing against gays, or really anyone. I try not to make bigs things out of stuff that doesn't need it. Besides, I think it's cool, in a way I can't explain. It's different. Being straight is _so _overrated." I say, and I do have to agree with my last statement just a little.

"So tell me about yourself, Greta." Sam says and takes another sip of coffee. "I've told you a bit about me. I want to hear about you a little." Before I talk, he scans the room. He is still on duty after all.

"Not much to tell really." I start. "I was born at the Royal court. Mum became pregnant with me when she was twenty and she thinks I was conceived when she and dad were over in Russia, visiting his family for a few weeks. I was able to, well, _be here_ because mum had theory that you could somehow 'heal the womb'. A very emotional time, she told me. Apart from her falling pregnant, it was also the first time dad had seen his family since, I think he was sixteen, also after he was... stringoi.

"I lived at Court for a few years before I moved down to Montana with my dad to the academy. My dad's charge back at court was Christian Ozera. My mum's is Lissa Dragomire. I call her Aunty Lissa while her husband, Christian, is my uncle and my other uncle is Adrian Ivashkov. Apart from dad's side of the family and mum's mum and dad, I don't have many blood relations so aunty Lissa stepped in and said 'hey! I'll be the child's aunty!' Apparently she actually said at to mum.

"My mum's mum is Janine Hathaway and her dad is Abe Mazur. They're my grandma and grandpa, but they don't like me calling them that because they say it makes them feel old. I've visited my grandma on the other side of the family over in Russia. Grandma Olena," I smile, "she has to be one of the best cooks ever. I was five when I first met her and had just started pre school at the academy. I met my aunties, Viktoria, Sonya and Karolina. Also my great grandma, Yeva. She's a bit... I don't know how to describe her. She's tough even at her age. She's still alive now. She's very old though, but both mum and dad say its going to take more than age to take her down, and I believe mum was trying to hunt down my dad when she was eighteen, she said that Yeva pretended not to speak English. I don't know why but she did. But it didn't matter for me whether she spoke English or not. Dad taught me how to speak Russian fluently at about the age of three.

"I've been up to Court many times since I was four or five. In the school holidays, dad sometimes takes me up there to see mum and Aunty Lissa. Her son, Hamish Ozera, is the same age as me and he's at the academy too. We've been really good friends for ages, we grew up together at court and moved down to the academy at the same time.

"And that's really all I can think of. Not much has happened in the last few years. I've just been at the academy studying and training. Not much else." I finish.

"And you said at the beginning that there wasn't much to tell," Sam's finished off his coffee and is staring at me. "Do you want Hamish Ozera to be your charge?" He asks.

"Yeah. He's the only one I really want to guard. Maybe because I know him so well. But it's a bit like my mother and Aunty Lissa." Sam nods at this, but then asks me something no one ever has.

"If you weren't going a guardian or a dhampire. If you were human, what would you want to be?" I just stare at him. I don't quite know how to answer.

"I haven't really thought about it," I say, "but if I had to pick right now on the spot, I think it would be something to do with medicine. Like a doctor. If not a doctor maybe an author, school is funny because my English sucks. I don't know why. The two are so different from each other, but both intrigue me. I want to be able to help others or create something for others." I'm actually amazed at what I've said. I repeat all the words over in my head and see that the last two statement are true, even if both of those occupations are false what I said about helping people and creating something for people is.

Sam is looking at me fondly. He smiles again.

"I've asked many guardians that, and none of them have really ever given me an answer, let alone one as detailed. Many dhampires don't even consider what life would be like if they had a right to dictate it. They just seem to move along what others tell them. Not that that is bad but they don't seem to even seem to think that have the choice to even think about it." Sam says. I agree with him. In a way he's right, depending on your view.

"Your different from any dhampire or Moroi I've met." I say.

"Is that good or bad?" He asks.

"Good." I say and smile at him and he returns it. Sam's eyes sweep over the room again before he looks down at his watch and frowns.

"We better go. We have to go through a theory session before Guardian Alto gets up." He says. I sigh and get up.

"Don't you call him Stan like everyone else?" I inquirer. Sam looks at me and smiles.

"Yeah. Mostly everyone does." He says.

"Is he moody with the guardians too?" I ask and Sam bursts out laughing.

"Depends whether he likes you or not. He can actually be a good guy, he just gets... I don't know if this is the right word but he can get a bit dreary sometimes. It's as if he has swings. Usually, he's alright with the guardians. It's just you youngsters that... Annoy him."

"So it's our fault?" I tease. I turn my head towards the counter and say a quick thank you. The cashier nods her head in thanks. I turn back to Sam and see he's holding the door open. "Such a gentleman." I don't feel embarrassed about saying it either.

Just as Sam puts a foot through the door, I hear someone's voice loudly coming from the bakery. I turn to see Leon walking briskly towards us. Sam opens the door wider but what's funny is that Leon shy's away from the sun light. I farrow my brows.

"Hi," Leon says, "I'm Leon. This sounds forward but you're very beautiful." I flush.

"Uh, thank you?" I stutter. This is strange. I've never had anyone but my family call me pretty before. Never would I dream that some random blond guy would say it to me.

"I was just wondering... Well, if you'd call me one time." Leon handed me a bit of paper. His fingers brush my palm and I see that they're cold. I look down at the bit of paper. What do I say? How do I tell him that I can't call him? Thankfully, Sam steps in.

"I'm sorry, but we have to go." He says. His voice is emotionless, like a guardian. Leon looks stricken. My voice is gentle when I say

"I already have a boyfriend." I regret it when I see his face fall.

"Well, he's lucky to have you." Leon puts on these sort of puppy dog eyes and gazes at me. But even so, I blush at his words.

"She won't be calling you." Sam says. His voice isn't mean but it's isn't nice either. Sam turns to leave and I look back at Leon. I mouth a 'sorry' and jog up the sidewalk, trailing Sam.

"How was my big brother act?" He asks. I smile at him.

"I have nothing to compare it too, but it was pretty good."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

It's just past eleven when we get back. The house is deadly silent which means, thank The Lord, Stan is still asleep. Hopefully, he won't be up for another few hours. I have two more lessons with Sam before it reaches six o'clock.

Instead of a new lesson every hour, we go over one for two hours and in more detail than I would get at the academy. After each lesson I get an hour off. Sam just stands off by the window and watches the room like a hawk. Neither of us speak. I was reading _Jane Eyre_ on the plush couch. It was nice to just curl up with a book in my hand and just relax. I knew though I would be up again later doing more study with Stan.

At about 7:30pm, the stairs creaked and Stan comes down dressed in his formal guardian wear. I looked up lazily, stared for a second then went back to my book. It was the sad part. Jane had just found out about Mr Rochester's crazy wife. She was still in her wedding attire and the woman in front of her had cried out Mr Rochester's name. I felt a pang of sadness towards Jane. I had read the book many times, it was one of my favourites, but I still felt for her.

My mother found it funny that I read so much. Originally, she was worried I would pick up one of my dad's cowboy books and become just like him, but I had no interest in screaming damsels. In fact people like that, fictional or not, annoyed me. They seemed so helpless in a situation that could so easily be solved.

Stan walks into the kitchen and is just about open the cupboard when I say: "There's nothing in there. It's empty." My voice sounds bored and I don't look up from my book. I keep reading, not interested in Stan or Sam at the moment.

Jane has run from the room, with her name being called by Mr Rochester desperately. She doesn't stop. Running through Thornfield Hall, tears fall from her eyes. She feels betrayed. In the end she runs away. Away from the crazed woman and away from Mr Rochester.

Stan's voice breaks through my ears again.

"Guardian Smith can you go shopping tomorrow morning with Greta?" His voice is bland and it annoys me. I sigh and close the book. Now that Stan's here there's no way I'm going to be able to keep reading it.

"Yes, Guardian Alto." Is all Sam says and returns to scanning the room for nonexistent danger. I place me now closed book on the glass coffee table and stretch me legs out on the couch. I hear my stomach rumble. I realise then that I hadn't eaten since this morning with Sam and I really want dinner. Now.

"What's dinner tonight?" I ask. Stan glares at me and I return it with equal fierceness.

"Let's just order take out again." Sam says. I give a quiet cheer and Stan huffs.

"Chinese?" I offer and I hear both guardians grunt in response. Stan must be in one of his moods again. "I'll look up a place close by." I say while I get up off the couch and walk to my room on my tip toes. It's a habit I picked up when I was really young. I had never been able to break it. It started when I was three so I could pretend to be as tall as my dad, which honestly would never have worked seeing as he was 6"6 or something. But still I tried.

In the bedroom, I grab my phone and look up Chinese take-outs. Like last night, it's close by. I yell out to Sam and Stan, asking them what they want. Sam offers to go and get it, but Stan rejects it. He's says Sam's is still on duty and that he will get it. At least the house will be Stan-free for half an hour or so. It's not long but I'll take what I can get.

Stan leaves the house, still in his guardian clothes. I don't know whether that's good or bad. I just don't think about it. If he meant to get changed he would've. For some reason, every since Stan got up, I feel... Jumpy. Skittish. A shiver runs through my body and I try to relax. _What could happen? _I ask silently in an attempt to calm myself. _You have two very skilled guardians looking after you. When you don't actually need looking after. _This doesn't really make me feel better. I reach for _Jane Eyre_ and open to my page again but I don't seem to find relaxation there either, though I keep reading.

I just get to the part where Jane hears her name on the wind when the front door opens again and Stan walks in with two plastic bags. I don't know why, but I breath a sigh of relief that Stan's come back in one piece. As I smell the food, my anxiety drips away a little.

I shift my legs and stand up, stretching like a cat. Stan places the bags on the table. I begin to walk towards them, when I notice Sam still standing in the corner, not moving. I stop in my tracks and turn to him. "Aren't you going to come eat?"

"After my shift. I've got another ten minutes." Is all he says before I turn back tot he table. Reaching into one of the bags, I grab the first thing I can grab a hold of. It turns out to be spring rolls. Lucky pick.

"Sam, what do you want so we can save you some?" I ask him. I see Stan look at me funny. I ignore him, my gaze on Sam.

"I don't mind." He says. I don't believe him

"There must be something you specially want." Sam smiles.

"I like any Chinese. I'll just have what's left."

"You're sure?" I ask finally. Sam nods. "OK." I turn back to the food and lick my lips. Stan has already taken the tops off the food plates. Steam lifts into the air, bringing with it the foods' pungent aroma. I sniff the air before digging in. Stan leaves the table and to grab three plates. I really couldn't care less about etiquette right now.

When Stan comes back, I grab the plate roughly from his hands and pile it with fried rice, dumplings and mosho pork. There's probably more food in the bag but I only focus on what's in front of me. I stuff myself with rice and pork. Looking up briefly, I notice Stan staring at me we an expression I can only describe as disgust.

"What? I'm hungry." I say defensively. I hear Sam hold back a laugh and Stan mutter something along the lines of "Just like her mother" before he starts putting food in his mouth and I go back to mine. Stan eats efficiently. I wouldn't use the word 'efficiently' to describe eating but it's the perfect way to put it. Quickly but not messily. Stan's finished before I am and is moving to the sink to rinse his plate. I'm still eating but beginning I'm to feel full.

I hear the 'clank' of Stan's plate in the sink. Whispered words follow and I turn to see Stan talking Sam in a hushed voice. I don't catch any of it and I don't really mind. I finish eating and I'm surprised that there's any left, but there's quite a bit. Maybe some for lunch tomorrow.

"Does anyone know where my phone is?" I interrupt. Both guardians turn to look at me.

"On the coffee table." Sam's says, "how can you lose it in less than fifteen minutes?"

"Short term memory lose," I joke.

"Who were you going to call?" Stan asks right after Sam has finished.

"My dad." I say to Stan. I grab my phone from the coffee table and check the time. It's eight o'clock now, should be late enough to call.

I dial my dad's mobile number. I rings three times before I hear "Guardian Belikov" in a heavily accented voice. I always loved the sound of it.

"Hi dad." I say. I speak in Russian because I don't really want Stan listening in on our conversation.

"Hello, Sweetheart." He replies. "How are you settling in?"

"Fine. The house is huge. Its amazing." I say. "The only problem is that we haven't gone shopping yet."

"And you, being like your mother, eat a lot." He laughs

"Yeah,"

"How do you find Guardian Smith?"

"Sam's nice. He really is like a big brother. Stan's alright too."

"That's good." Dad admits. There was a pause. "I miss you so much, Greta."

"I miss you too." I say.

"Have you spoken to your mother yet?" He asks. I make a face.

"No. Not yet. I don't know when she's on a shift or not. And I think there might be an hour or so difference between her and me." I lift my finger nails to my mouth and softly chew on them. Another bad habit I can't seem to break. "Are you going to stay at the academy or go up to Pennsylvania to court to guard Uncle Christian again?"

"I'm not sure yet. I've written to him and I've asked mum to ask him, but he's been very busy lately. Might be the fact that Aunty Lissa's pregnant again."

"A fourth one?" Along with Hamish, who is the oldest, the Dragomire-Ozera family have two other children. Lachlan who's thirteen and Maisy who's six. Maisy looks so much like her mother. She has Aunty Lissa's platinum blond hair and her mossy green eyes. She also has the most gentle, beautiful and cheeky face, where as Lachlan has a mix of both his mother and father. His father's eyes and light brown hair but his mothers soft features. "How far along is she?"

"About two and a half months." He says. "They don't know what the gender is yet, but Adrian knows, since he can read her aura. But I'm sure, like her other children, she'll want it to be a surprise."

"There must be a buzz at court then." I say. "A new prince or princess. Do you know what Aunty Lissa wants it to be?"

"A girl, I think. She said to mum that she's done with bringing up boys." He chuckles. "What about you, Greta. Would like a niece or nephew?"

"Well, what's done is done, but another baby girl would be nice." I reply. "Maybe she'll look like Uncle Christian this time. The dark hair and blue eyes." I say excitedly. The last time I held one of Aunty Lissa's new born babies was when I was eleven or twelve. It had been Maisy and she had been so small in my arms. So fragile. I gently rocked her back and forth while she slept. She was absolutely beautiful, like an angel.

"What does mum think of the pregnancy? I'm sure she's gone into her extra protective mode." When I was younger, back at court, she was extraordinarily protective of me. She wouldn't let me out of her sight for a minute. But as a two or three-year-old I was, I loved exploring the grounds. Everyone said I looked like a mini version of my mother. I didn't believe them. I thought I had my day's hard features but my mother's eyes and thick, wavy hair.

"I don't know. I only found out this morning when I was talking to mum on the phone before her shift. She sends her love by the way." He adds, "But from the way she was talking, I think she might have." He chuckles again. "You know how she is."

"Yeah," I say, "I know." There's silence for a minute before dad says

"Are you sure you're alright there? Because if you're not..." He trails before he speaks again. "Nothing's happened? No problems? At the airport? The house?" He sounded worried. It was like he was looking at all the _what if_'s and thinking of all the worst case scenarios. I walk over to the window and gaze out of it, sighing.

"Relax, Dad," I say gently, "nothing's happened, or will for that matter. I'm surrounded by two very skilled guardians who dedicate their lived to protecting people. I'm fine, I promise." I say. The mood of this conversation has changed so quickly. One minute, Aunty Lissa's pregnancy the next it's if I'm well enough protected and safe. If I had the choice, I'd be more concerned for Lissa than me. "Nothing's going to happen." I say again.

"I'm sorry, Greta." He says

"For what, Papa? You've done nothing," I say.

"But I have." He says quietly. I turn my head towards the two other guardians and notice they're both still. I huff.

"Stan and Sam I think were listening, which I don't understand because I don't think either of them know Russian." I grin. Funny.

"Do they let you call them by their first name?" Dad's voice is curious.

"Well, Sam does. Stan and I haven't really set out the name thing. I just said that I wasn't going to call him anything else." I say matter-of-factly. Dad laughs softly. Over the line, I hear him greet another guardian but the name of Luck. It may be ironic but Guardian Luck has never been in a brawl with a stringoi. Never been in an battle with them. Has never been captured, feed on or tortured by one. Maybe Guardian Luck has some luck on his side. Some novices think its peculiar but I just think its a coincidence.

"Sorry Greta, but I have to go. I have the first offence and defence lessons today." He says apologetically.

"Ok. Say hi to Lachlan and Hamish for me. And everyone else. Tell them I miss them," I smile before adding, "even Kirova." I hear dad laugh before someone yells out his name and tells him to hurry up. He shouts an 'sorry, I'm coming' before I speak again. "When do you get off today?"

"Not until about eight tomorrow morning. I teach all day today and then I have a shift straight after." He says.

"That seems a bit beyond cruel to me." I say teasingly

"It's my job, Greta." I hear another shout, "I'm sorry, Sweetheart, but I have to go. Sleep well, I love you."

"I love you too, Papa." I say quickly, not wanting to hold dad up.

"I miss you, Greta. Good night." He says 'I love you' one more time before he hangs up. I sigh sadly. My arm falls to my sides and I lean on the wall still gazing out the window. I really wish dad wouldn't worry so much about me. He doesn't need the stress, he's got enough on his plate as it is.

My eyes flicker over the garden and I see movement. Like a flash of black moving in the corner of the garden. _It's probably just a cat, _I say to myself. It's a good answer, I mean we are in a neighbourhood, probably with families with children and animals. Cats like to move around at night, it would only be normal the animal to jump through the front and back yards of others.

_But animals don't like dhampirs, _my conscious argues. _And you're one living in a house with two others by your side._ And it's true, if I were a cat my instincts would be to avoid the house all together. We don't know why animals don't like us, we think that they sense something off balance in us. Something that puts them on edge when they're around us.

_You're over reacting. It's only a cat. _I shiver anyhow.

"You alright, Greta?" Sam asks from the table. "You seem a bit on edge." His face is full of concern.

"No, I'm fine. But I'm going to bed. See you guys tomorrow." I wave and I'm surprised how fast my legs move to get me out of the room. When I reach my room I make a beeline for the bathroom. Stripping down, I turn the shower on as far as the heat tap will go. I've always taken hot showers. The water never scolded my skin and the heat relaxed me greatly. I was hoping that the boiling water would do that now. Calm me.

I hopped in and let the boiling water run over my body. Even after being in there for half an hour, I still felt on edge. Mentally, I slap myself. _Get a hold, Greta. There is absolutely no need to be concerned. _The thought numbs my feeling of unease for a while. Jumping out of the shower, I grab a fluffy, white towel from the rake and walk back into my bedroom. I change into by bed top and cotton shorts. The water did what I hope it would. The unease has ebbed away and stayed away long enough to allow me to fall asleep.

_My room feels cold and I shiver. My eyes open to the unforgiving darkness. I don't know why I'm cold and I turn my gaze around my room to find the source of chill. My eyes land on my open window. The curtains sway lightly in the breeze. I frown, not remembering that it was open. I push the covers back, flip my legs over the side of the bed. Freezing air nips at them and sends aches down to my bones. I'm only wearing my cotton shorts and tank top. My legs move slowly, still half asleep, across the room to the window. _

_I brace my hands on its frame and tug it down. A small bang sound occurs as it hits the wood beneath it. Wind whistles outside, pulling at the trees branches. _

_I'm about to go back to bed when I hear a noise from the living room. _Just Stan, _I think. But it comes again and I hear heavy breathing before a moan. But then there's no sound the house is deadly silent and I'm too stunned to move. I don't want to go back to bed, and my feet turn to my bedroom door. Steadily, I walk to it and twist the knob. Slinking out, I still don't hear a sound. _

_As I move deeper into the living room I start to hear a sort of sucking sound. Very much like... Oh no. Like in my bedroom, and strong breeze rolls in. I whip my head around, not moving my feet, and see to my horror the glass window that takes up the half the wall it shattered and Stan isn't anywhere to be seen. Sam, I hope, is still in bed. _

_In the direction if the front door, I hear a thud. I silently gasp and my feet move forward without me telling them too. I can't stop them moving and I don't want to know what's making the noise but I'm drawn to it. I poke my head around the corner and face the front door... _

_...I see a body. Around it's head, a small stain of blood as it spreads itself out slowly. I take the two or three step over to it. Rolling it over, I nearly scream as I see that it's Stan. His face is pale and his eyes are empty and staring. The eyes of a dead man. I look over his face and neck. _

_I practically choke as I notice a single bite mark there, one last drop of blood sliding down his throat before welling on the floor in the deep red puddle. I can't take my eyes of his dead form. Tears slide down my cheeks and drop onto his unmoving chest. I gently shake him, as if I were waking up a small child, hoping beyond hope he's still got some sort of life left in him. Any at all. _

_I hear another thud behind me but I don't turn around. I keep trying to wake Stan up. I hear a familiar voice speak up. "He's dead." My eyes leave Stan's body and I turn myself around to face my father. _

_He looks terrifying and cruel. His irises are red and glow in the dark of the house. But the thing that shocks me most is the blood dripping from his mouth. His lips are pulled back an evil sneer and the blood stains his teeth, turning them a dark blood orange colour in black light of the room. "And your next," Dad's voice has changed since the last time I talked to him. Now it's colder, more arrogant. Less gentle. _

_At his words, I gasp and he comes rushing forward, opens his mouth and..._

I wake up screaming. There a thundering of feet in the living room and Stan pretty much breaks down the door to see me shivering and sobbing. His face is hard and set. His stake in his hand.

"What happened?" He asked. His eyes swivel around the room, looking for danger that isn't there. I try to calm myself down. _Dream. _ I repeat over and over again in my head. _Dream. _

"Nothing," I say, voice shaking. "Nothing. Just a bad dream." I pull the thick blankets up to my chin and steady my breathing. "I'm fine. Sorry to have... interrupted you. It won't happen again." Stan just stares at me before turning to leave the room and closing the door behind him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: **

I wake in the morning with the sun streaming through my window. I feel horrible, like I've been hit with a crow bar. My head aches painfully and there's a dull throbbing in my at the back of it. Groaning, I get out of bed and stretch out before my head goes dizzy and my sight blackens. Stood up to quickly, I suppose. Falling back on the bed, I close my eyes and wait for the dizziness to subside.

When it does I grab my pull over jumper to cover my midriff and chest. Opening my door, I feel blinded by the light that's flooded into the living room. I hear some soft snoring so I suspect that Stan's shift has finished. To prove my point, Sam stands in the kitchen and looks around the room, just watching as he always does.

When I enter, Sam turns his head and faces me. He smiles at me and says good morning.

"Did you have a good sleep?" Sam asks. I frown, remembering the dream.

"Not really, no." Sam seems to accept my answer and doesn't say anything else on the subject. He continues gazing around.

"We have practise in half an hour or so. We still don't have food so we may have to go to that bakery again." Sam says. I nod my head. "You OK with that?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" I grumble. The words sound ungrateful and tiresome.

"You OK, Greta?" Sam inquires. "Since last night you've seemed..." He trails off.

"I know. I've been uneasy, I guess."

"About what?" I shrug

"I don't know." My voice sounds final. "I'm going to get ready." And I leave the room

I throw on what I was wearing yesterday and head to the back door. I see Sam in the same place he was standing the day before. He's looking up at the sky, soaking in the sun. I don't bother trying to tackle him again, just walk up behind him and tap him on the shoulder. He doesn't turn around, so I speak. "You miss the sun, don't you?"

"More than anything." He replies. Sam still doesn't turn around but covers his eyes with his arm. "I miss it more than anything." Sam turns to me and there is a brief pause before I say:

"Should we get started?"

"Yeah, sorry." Sam's face changes. "So, today were going to keep working on your defence and concentration." And the next two hours are pretty much the same as yesterday but more positioning and some offence added in.

At the end, I do my cool down stretches like yesterday. Sam speaks.

"I heard you scream last night. Did something happen?" His voice is gentle.

"It was nothing," I start. "Just a bad dream."

"Must've been bad then. You screamed really loudly." He jokes but I'm not in the mood.

"Sam," I begin, "last night, when you asked me if I was alright..." I trail off

"Yeah?"

"I think I saw something in the corner of the garden. I pretty sure it was a cat or something but I wasn't sure." I say, "Anyway that was what put me a bit on edge. I don't know why it did but I guess I'm a bit stressed." Sam doesn't look at me but says:

"We're done for now." Sam stands up straight. "Do you want to go back to that bakery again?"

"Sounds good," I say. "Can we go to the supermarket there too?" Sam nods and retreats back inside with me trailing at his feet.

"Grab your phone. Get changed if you like. We don't have to go straight away." Sam says. I nod and walk back to my room. I debate about having a quick shower but decided against it. I'll have on when we get back. I get dressed in my jeans and big jacket. Before I go I grab my infinity scarf and wined it around my neck.

Like yesterday, Sam and I walk to the village, side by side, and find the bakery we were at yesterday morning. When we do, I see that the cashier is the same pretty Asian girl as the day before. In fact, most of the servers are too. I see Leon in one half of the room, serving a young looking family with two small children. Once he takes their orders he begins to walk back to the counter where the cashier is. I look down at her apron and find her name tag which reads 'Marisa'.

"Back again?" She says when we stand in front of her. She looks at me. "You left Leon in a bit of a state yesterday. He's never been rejected before." At that moment, Leon walks up to Marisa a gives her a note of paper with orders on it. "Give this to Jer. He'll handle it." Leon nods and head towards a boy who looks the exact opposite of Leon and I can only guess that he's Jer. Marisa turns back to us. "Sorry," she apologises. "What would you like today?"

I look at Sam, but he's looking at Marisa.

"I'll have the same as yesterday. A café latte, double shots, and a pear puff." Marisa taps on her screen, before looking at me expectantly.

"Oh, I'll just have the same as yesterday. Hot chocolate and croissant thanks." Marisa smiles at me, it's sugary sweet smile but looks a bit forced. Nothing like Sam's smiles. Marisa grabs a number and hands it to Sam.

"Sit where you like." She says. I try and smile at her and we head of to find a table. The one we had yesterday isn't vacant, so we pick one next to the window. I feel the heat of the sun through it on the side of my face and I begin to relax.

"You're going very well in your physical training, Greta. We might move on quicker than I thought." Sam whispers. I look at him puzzled

"Why are you whispering?" I ask him in the same hushed tone.

"Because something isn't right here. I don't want anyone eavesdropping on us who isn't meant to hear." I nod.

"So, if we do move on, what are we going on to?" I ask him.

"Probably the basic stringoi anatomy, which will lead to the silver stakes later on. But we probably won't get to that for a few weeks. But you should be proud. You're excelling more than I'd first though you would." He says. "Some of your tactics and moves are beyond your years. Many of them I didn't learn until I was a year or so older than you."

"I have parents who are renowned guardians. They always worried about my safety, I never actually understood why until now, so as soon as I was able to walk and focus on one thing in their spare time they taught me some basics."

"You're very lucky, you know." Sam says, "Most dhampir children don't get that. Back at the academy, were you in front of your peers?"

"Yeah, but not by much. Half a year or so." I reply. After that our food arrives served by none other than Leon. His face is lit with a smile. Aren't you meant to be sad after you get rejected? I'm not sure really.

"Café Latte, double shot?" Sam puts his arm up slightly and Leon puts his coffee in front of him. "So, hot chocolate and croissant for the pretty lady?"

"Yes." I say timidly. No guy has ever treated me like this, but then again he's a waiter. I'm pretty sure waiters sometimes complement women about their appearance. "Thank you." I say and Leon nods his head before walking off. I stare after him, not quite sure what to say. I turn back to Sam and I don't know what to make of his expression. It looks like he's trying to hold back laughter but still looking fierce.

I giggle a bit at his expression. Sam turns towards me.

"The guy's persistent, I'll give him that." He says before taking a sip of his coffee, as if the temperature doesn't faze him. When he puts the cup back down he has a frothy moustache. I giggle again.

"You've got a little something..." I run my finger just under my nose and Sam's eyes widen before he wipes the froth off his mouth. I laugh at his expression. "Just thought I should let you know." I say before picking up my hot chocolate, blowing on it and taking a sip.

Sam and I don't speak much, just sit and eat. It's pleasant, not talking, and the silence isn't awkward. It really does feel as if we were brother and sister. Sam finishes his coffee before I do, but still waits patiently for me to finish.

"When your done," Sam starts, "can you look up where the nearest supermarket is?"

"No need," I reply, "I saw one on the way." Sam nods and I take my last bite of croissant. "Ready to go?" I ask and Sam nods. Getting up, I grab my jacket from the back off my chair and shrug it on.

I walk in front of Sam and open the front door. Sun light pours in. It feels different from when I was it coming through the glass window, stronger somehow. Without hesitation I walk through the door. A cool breeze is blowing outside, it's fresh. Sam closes the door and stands next to me.

"So, where's this supermarket?" He asks and I point back the way we came.

"That way. When we reach the corner we turn left and keep walking and it should be there." I say and start walking with Sam trailing at my feet.

We come to the corner and turn. This road is quieter but cars pass every now and then. Soon enough we reach the supermarket I spotted. We enter.

Unlike outside, there's a slight chill that all supermarkets have. Some of the neon lights flicker but most if them give off a whitish light. I walk forward and through the automatic gate into the supermarket. "So what do we need?" I look at Sam.

"Everything." He says

"Can we narrow 'everything' down?" I reply. "How about we start off with basics. Bread and milk then work from there."

"Have you ever been in a supermarket before?"

"What kind of a question is that?" I joke. "Of course I have, even if it was only once when I was seven."

"You took your first trip to a supermarket when you were in year one?" I punch his arm.

"Yes," I say arrogantly. "And I've never been back since." My voice is proud and I don't know why. "Have you ever been to a supermarket before, Sam?"

"What kind of a question is that?" He repeats and we start shopping.

By the end, the cash in my wallet is pretty much gone. Dad gave me three hundred dollars for the 'trip' and I pretty much blew it all just then, and to add to that we have to carry about twenty bags back home. When we get about half way, I say:

"This is why cars were invented." I whine, "to carry us and our things." Sam seems to have ever lasting energy and strength, and he's carrying a majority of the shopping bags. I've got three in each hand. At the start if the trip, they didn't feel heavy but it wasn't till now that I realised that they had at least three or four cartons of milk in them. And they were beginning to weigh on my shoulders and arms.

I really should have more stamina and endurance since I'm a dhampir but I don't seem to have the strength right now.

"We're nearly there, Greta. Besides, they're not that heavy." He laughs. Jeez, if mine feel heavy how would I feel if I were carrying Sam's load. I huff. _Nearly there, _I repeat over and over in my head. Finally, we reach the front door of the house. Sam drops his bags gently before he gets out the key. Sam pushes the door open, grabs his endless supply of shopping bags and walks in. I go in after him. I plonk my bags on the kitchen counter and swings my arms around, loosening them up.

It's about one o'clock now and I have my next class with Sam in half and hour. "I'm only taking you for one class today." My head looks toward Sam. "You went to bed last night before Stan's class." Oh yeah, Stan's class. Always so full of joy.

"So, is this another theory class?"

"More or less." Sam replies. He gestures for me to sit down at the table. "Now, I'm going ask you some questions and you're going to answer them as best you can." When I nod, Sam continues. "Say one day you were at the beach, may be in the middle of the night or in the day, but your Moroi is there. You have another guardian with you, as you would have in the real world. Your Moroi decides to go swimming and you go with him or her." Sam looks at me to see if I'm following. "More all intense and purposes, it's night." I nod. "So your out in the water, your fellow guardian is patrolling the beach for any threats. The water ripples and a head comes up that isn't the one of your Moroi. It's a stringoi. What are you going to do?" I've been hanging on his every word. It's takes me a few seconds to process his question and find an answer.

"Fight him." I say simply. Sam's face doesn't change.

"Stringoi breathe out of habit or to blend into the human world. You on the other hand breathe to live. What are you going to do if he or she drags you under the water? For this instance we won't cover that, but it's something to keep in mind. So I ask you again, what are you going to do?"

"Fight him." I say, "somehow." Sam doesn't seem pleased with my answer.

"Ok, let's break it down." He says. "How are you going to stay afloat?"

"Tread water."

"Good." He praises. "Would you have brought your stake with you?"

"Yes."

"Would you try to alert your fellow comrade of the threat."

"If I could, yes. Other wise alert he or she as soon as I could"

"And what would you do or tell your Moroi to do?"

"Swim as close to the shallows as possible. I would follow because, firstly, when we got into more shallow water it would make it easier to fight and kill the stingoi. Secondly, the other guardian is there to protect the Moroi. Thirdly, there is less chance of a casualty. Like you said before, the stringoi could drag either of us under at any moment."

"Good, good." Sam says. "What if there were multiple stringoi?"

"Do the same. Or as close as I can to the same. Depends on how I, my Moroi and the stringoi were positioned." I say. Sam smiles and nods.

The next tow hours are more or less the same. Questioning. Different scenarios. Solo guarding. It felt I was sitting there for five minutes before the lesson ended. The way Sam explained everything, he simplified things, not making them sound easy, but easier to understand.

After the lesson I go to my room and take a shower. I stay in there for at least half and hour. When I get back out to the living room, towel in hand drying my hair it's four thirty. Stan would be getting up in about an hour and a half.

_Jane Eyre _is where I left it on the coffee table. Curling up on the couch, I reach for the book. I open to my doggy-eared page and continue reading.

I've finished the book before Stan's up and I have half an hour to kill. Getting up, I walk I to the kitchen and look in the cupboard. I crouch down the shelves looking for what I could cook for dinner.

"What are you doing?" Sam asks. "Apart from the obvious."

"Deciding what's for dinner." I say. Even with my height of 6"2, some of the food shelves are taller than I am. "Do you want anything in particular?" I ask. "I was just going to cook pasta."

"Pasta's fine." Is all Sam says and I get back digging through the cupboards. They're all very full seeing as we practically bought everything in the supermarket. Finally, I land on a packet of spaghetti. Pulling it out, I turn it over and look at the label and read the instructions. I've cooked pasta before, many times, but for some reason I feel the need to go over them.

Grabbing a pot, I fill it with water. Setting it down, I go over to the stove and turn the gas on. It clicks a couple of times before igniting into a deep blue flame. I take the pot handles and lift it up before gently pit it down on top of the flame. I brush my hands on my cotton shorts.

"Sauce," I say to myself, "I need sauce." Going to the fridge, I get the mince out. I put it down on the island counter before going to the cupboard again and grabbing the olive oil, onions and tomato paste. Standing in front of the counter for a second before I duck down to search for a pan. I find one in the first draw I open. Lifting it up, I inspect it. It's clean.

The water hasn't even started to boil yet but small, barely visible puffs of steam are coming up. I start the gas beside the boiling water. The clicking sounds again and blue flames start to flicker to life. I place the pan over them before turning to grab the oil. I pop the top off and drizzle it over the pan. I swivel it around and set the pan down on the fire again.

I check the water, which is still not boiling, and sigh. I turn and face Sam, who has his eyes locked on my every move. I lean my forearms against the island bench and return Sam's stare. "So, Sam," I begin, "I would like to know about you. I've told told you about myself and I would like to hear from you." I rest my chin on forearms. Sam chuckles.

"Not much to tell," Sam repeats my words from the other day. "I'm swedish-"

"Explains the accent," I cut in. Now that he says it, it seems so obvious.

"I have an older brother and two younger sisters. Daisy who's fourteen, Cammie, who's seventeen, and Alex, who's twenty-four or twenty-five-"

"They don't sound like very Swedish names."

"I know. My mother is American, while my dad was Swedish. I met him a couple of times, when he was over for one of his 'visits'" Sam's words are bitter as he says the last couple of words. "He visited frequently, but I was usually in my room or out playing. As I got older I realised why he came and it began disgusted me. I'd never really talked to my father much. He never seemed to have any concern for his children." There's a sizzle in the background, and I see that it's the oil. I hold a finger up to Sam.

"Hold that thought for one second." I turn hastily to the stove and lower the temperature. "Sorry." I say. "Go on. I'm still listening if I turn back to the stove." I grab one of the wooden bread boards, a few onions and a sharp kitchen knife. Placing them on the island counter, I begin to chop up them up.

"Anyway, I graduated when I was eighteen from an academy like St Vladimir's back in Sweden. A day or so after the graduation, I was sent to St Vladimir's. I've been working there for the last two and a half years."

"So, you've never had an actual charge before? Not even for a short while?"

"No," Sam replies. "Really, your the first charge I've really had."

"Well, is it all its cracked up to be?"

"So far? Yeah. You're far more hospitable than most of the royal Moroi."

"I'm glad." I say. "This is a weird question, but are the royals in Sweden more... I don't know, glamorous?" Sam looks at me funny, "I just ask because your closer to a human royal family. I was wondering if that was a standard to live up to with the royal Moroi."

"Not really, no." Sam says. "But they can be a lot more kinder than the American ones."

"Right," I've finished chopping the onions. Picking up bread board, and take it over to the pan and tip it in. It sizzles loudly and I toss it around the pan with a wooden spoon, until the sizzling softens. I grab the mince packet and divide it in half and drop it into the pan. The onions sizzle again and I stir the meat around, mingling the ingredients.

A spicy aroma fills the room. I sniff the air and sigh. Already, it smells good. Next, I reach for one of the tomato paste container. I take the top off it and tip it and continue stirring.

"You said before your mum is American," I say, my eyes on my half made sauce. "When you moved, did you have relatives here?"

"Yeah, but all of them are in another part if the country. Two of my uncles have charges in Australia and my aunts are a lot like my mother. I have many cousins, all of them have become guardians, although none of them work at St Vladimir's. They're all in different parts of the world. A couple in Europe, a few Asia, some in South America. You name it and one of them's there." I smile at his words.

"And you're just stuck here, looking after me." I sigh. "Do you miss you family back in Sweden?" I ask him. At that moment I remember Grandma Olena and my aunties over in Russia. I realise that I miss them. I haven't seen them in ages.

"I do. A lot. I call my mother sometimes."

"What does she, your mother, think about, you know, your sexuality?" I ask, "I don't mean to pry. You don't have to tell me if you don't want too."

"No, it's fine." Sam answers. "And to answer your question, she doesn't know. I haven't told her. I don't think I ever will."

"Why not?" I ask suddenly. "Sorry."

"It's OK. I just don't want her or my family to judge me in any way. I love them and I don't want their judgement to tante that." Sam says and the room fills with silence. Only the occasional crackle or sizzle breaks it. Thankfully, Stan's up. I never thought I'd say that. "Well, good morning." I say, "or night."

"That has to be one of the nicest things you've said to me ever." Stan says.

"You seem to be in a good mood for a grumpy old man." I say, "Can you help me with dinner?" I ask him. "Can you keep stirring the sauce while I get the pasta."

"Pasta for breakfast, that's new." Stan says but takes the wooden spoon and stirs. The pasta is next to the boiling water. Reaching for the packet, I slip a finger under the tab and shimmy it along so that the packet opens.

"Are either of you guys super hungry?" I ask. "I just need to know how much to cook."

"Not really," Sam says and Stan's answer is the same. I don't feel like I'm starving to death so I only think I'll cook three quarters of the packet. Tipping in the uncooked pasta into the pot, steam rolls up in little puffs. I grab another wooden spoon and stir the pasta.

"I think this is nearly done." Stan says. I duck down to the oven and turn it onto a low heat. "Why'd you do that?" Stan inquires.

"Because, the sauce will be ready before the pasta, and I don't want it to go cold." San nods and goes back to stirring, his eyes on the pan. "Let me see." I shove Stan out of the way and take his spoon. Looking into the pan, I see that it's done. "Good," I say to myself. Hanging on the rake on the oven door are a couple of tea towels. I grab one and open the door of the oven. My tea-towel clad hands stretch for the pan and snag it. It wobbles a bit in my hands, but I manage to get it into the oven without any more trouble. The oven door closes and I straighten up, turn the gas off and shift my attention back to the pasta.

It's only been in for about five minutes and needs a lot more time to cook. So, really, I just stand there in front of the stove fore another ten or so minutes stirring and waiting. A few minutes before done, I go on search of bowls and a strainer. I find them quickly. Setting the strainer in the sink, I move to the island counter and set the three bowls down before returning to the pasta. It's pretty much done but I test it anyway, twirling a strand around the wooden spoon before putting it my mouth. "Done," I announce.

Using the same tea towel as before, I grab the handles and carry the heavy pot to the sink and tipping it contents into the strainer. I turn back to the stove and switch the gas off. Steam is billowing up from the strainer and I shake the pasta around to get rid of any excess water. Using the wooden spoon, I divide the spaghetti up equally into the three bowel before retreating to the oven, grab the sauce out and turn it off. I spoon the sauce on top of the pasta.

"Stan," I call out and his head turns to his name, "dinner." I take two of the three bowels to the table before going back to get the other.

Dinner with Stan proceeds in silence. It's not awkward exactly but it's not pleasant either. Sam doesn't speak either, just keeps watching the room. _That's all he seems to do, _I think, _just watch. _I finish my food quickly and a place my plate in the sink and rinse it before placing it in the dish washer. Stan finishes soon after and does the same.

"Guardian Smith, I can take over now." Stan says. "Eat something. Relax." Sam nods and leaves his post by the wall to grab the last plate off the counter and heads off to the pasta before eating it greedily.

"I thought you said you weren't hungry." I say. "I would've cooked more if you were." Sam smiles and continues stuffing himself. It has to be the fastest I've ever see someone eat, even the teenage dhampir boys at St Vlad's don't eat that quickly.

I move to the room with the TV and switch it on. It comes onto the news and the anchor is saying something about a car crash in the south. I don't really pay much attention until he says:

"To other news, local police have found another body in a dumpster behind a night club earlier today in the city. They haven't identified the body yet but say that the gender is female. Police say that her neck had been broken and she lost eighty percent of her blood from grotesque wounds on around her neck." I noticed out of the comer of my eye that both guardians had come to listen as well. "The police believe that this murder is connected with the other four bodies found in the past few weeks." The pictures cuts to the face of one of the South Carolina police deputy's. His face his grim and set, emotionless. He's saying something but I can't concentrate on his words. My eyes finds Sam's face but his gaze is set on the television screen,

"...this is a senseless, heartless killing. The people behind this will be court and be put to justice." The picture cuts back to the anchor. He's leaning forward a bit.

"Yes." He says to the camera. "And the police are urging anyone with information to contact crime stoppers." The number shows on screen and disappears as the anchor starts the next story.

My mouth is open slightly and I turn to face the two guardian to my right.

"What was that about?" I ask. "Is that stringoi killing?"

"Yes." Stan says, "but they're being careful in how much blood they take."

"Why? They usually wouldn't care about that."

"I'm not sure, but I'm calling that academy." Stan leaves the room and makes the call. I hear muffled words and soon Stan renters the room.

"That was quick." I say. "What did they say?"

"They want us to check in everyday or so. I've told them all that I could and they're going to let the alchemists know what has happened."

"It's funny they didn't already know and get a handle on the situation before hand." Sam says. "And you would've thought that because they think its connected to four others someone would've done something."

"I know." Stan says. "but it's not something we can do anything for." The room is silent for a minute or so before Stan says to me, "you have a lesson in five minutes Greta. Get yourself ready." Then he leaves the room. My eyes lift to Sam but he isn't looking at me. I get up and leave the room like Stan and get ready for my lesson. There really isn't much to do so I just sit on the couch and wait. I play on my phone for two minutes before Stan reappears and tells me to go to the table.

Unlike Sam, Stan covers each of my normal classes quickly. The lesson ends at eleven. Three hours of non stop learning. My body feels exhausted and my eyes are droopy and sore. I yawn and stretch my arms over my head. My neck falls back and I get a dizzy sensation. My eyes close as it passes. I hear Stan sigh.

"Ok, you're done for today, Greta. Go to bed." He says and turns away from the table and stands in the same place Sam stands when he's on duty.

I grab my phone and sleepily saunter to my room. I plonk down on the bed and dial dad's number. I don't realise it may be a bad time until I hear my dads voice and the sound of fighting in the back ground.

"Guardian Belikov," he says confidently.

"Hi dad," I say quietly, "it's me."

"Greta," he says, "now's not a good time to call." His voice is soothes me a little.

"Yeah," I yawn, "I got that from the noises in the background. Are you teaching a class?"

"Yeah. Year sevens." He answers

"I hope I didn't interrupt anything but I needed to talk to you." I say

"What about?" I hear voices in the back ground, and dad yelling something. "Sorry,"

"It's OK," I say and yawn again. "I'm not sure if you know but they've been some murders here." I say and there's silence on the other end.

"So I've heard... Just hang on a sec, Greta." Dad says something about being right back to another guardian before I hear the gym door open and close behind him. "Sorry about that. It was getting a bit noisy in there."

"Too many thirteen-year-olds hoping for you attention, I suppose."

"Yeah." He says. "Now about these killings, I've only heard a few brief things about them. What's happened exactly."

"The human police are saying that the one they found today had her neck snapped and pretty much all her blood drained. They didn't say that it was drained exactly but they said she had a couple of wounds around her neck. That's all they said on the news."

"And you're alright?" Dad's voice sounds worried.

"Yes, Dad. I'm fine." I say. "Like I said last night there's nothing to worry about. I'm safe." I pause. "It's just now that the news of the murders has made me a bit uneasy, is all."

"I want you to be extra careful, Greta." Dad says.

"I'm always careful,"

"I know but I want you to take precaution if you go outside the house." He says. In the background I head the gym doors open and close again. A female voice speaks and I'm sure it's Alberta. I can't her what she's saying but I think it may have to do with him going back to teach his class. "Sorry, Greta, but I have to go. I'll speak to you when I can. I love you."

"I love you too," and I hang up. Rolling onto my back with my head on the pillow I throw the phone onto one of the bedside tables. I close my eyes and fall asleep immediately.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:**

I wake a couple of hours later. I hear slight tapping sounds coming from the living room. At first I think that I'm still asleep and I'm dreaming, but the sound is so insistent and annoying that I open my eyes. I groan and roll over, pressing the pillow into my face, trying to cover my ears. But still I hear it. I groan again and kick my legs over the other side of the bed and fall onto the floor. For a few moments, I stay there in a heap before I find the strength and stand up. Hair covers my eyes, and I brush it out of the way. I walk outside my door...

...and see no one. The house is deadly silent, with no guardian to be seen. I look to the kitchen and see that it's about three a.m. The funny thing is, I don't feel tired, instead I feel alert and nauseous. I ignore my stomach and step forward. I'm tempted to call out Stan's name, but fear that I will wake Sam. I take a couple of steps towards the kitchen and feel the cold enamel beneath my feet. I brace my hands on the marble counter and look around the room.

Outside the windows, the sky is dark. Stars are scattered through out its velvety darkness. Wind softly whistles through the trees and carries theirs leaves in its cold clutches. I gaze out the window for a few seconds before I'm startled by something smashing. My eyes widen and I turn quickly and grab a sharp kitchen knife from its stand. I press my back into the counter and hold the knife in front of my stomach.

I shouldn't be frightened, but I've never felt so scared in my life. With my back against the counter I feel helpless but I can't seem to make my legs move. My head flicks in different directions around the room, looking for danger. The house feels freezing now, no longer cozy. I hear something else fall and hit the ground again in another room, before I hear muffled sounds.

Where is Stan? Where is, well, anyone? I feel cold and alone. A startling sensation of fear drips it's way into my bones before heading to my stomach to add to it's feeling of sickness. I edge my way off the counter's chill and softly pad to the place where Sam or Stan are usually stationed. I have the knife in an iron grip as I head across the room, towards the room. The window now feels as though its a place of fear not comfort.

I stop in my tracks at the side of the sofa. I look at the coffee table and below it is Stan's silver stake. I drop to my knees and reach for it. Once it's in my grip, I study it. It's definitely Stan's. The pattern on it shows that it's undeniably his. Many guardians had their stakes engraved with a pattern to show that it's theirs.

I stand up quickly and put my back to the window. I hear more things falling and crashing to the ground. With the stake by my side and the knife in front of my stomach I head towards where I think the sound is coming from. Sam's room.

I stop suddenly, thinking that it could just be him... And Stan. Stan might be gay too. But then I think that he would never leave his post, even for sex. Even if he was gay. I take a few more steps forward and put my hand on the door knob. I turn it and push it open while I'm still outside the doorframe.

Sam's room is empty, just like the living room. His bed covers have obviously been tossed back and are rumpled, but not in a suggestive way. Things have been scattered and look as though they've been bumped or thrown off the bedside tables. My eyes rush over his belongings and spot his stake. It looks just like Stan's, but without a personal pattern the spiralling around it. I lift Stan's stake, which is in my hand, and place it inside my shorts and hide the hilt with my bed shirt. When that's done, I walk to where Sam's stake is on the floor and pick it up. I don't waste time examining it like I did Stan's. I'm still holding the kitchen knife and I switch hands so that the stake is in my prominent hand. I hastily leave the room after, feeling, as I travel back down the small half hallway, as if eyes are burning a hole into my upper back. I shiver and just walk faster until I reach the living room a second or so later.

I stand there for a moment, still feeling as though someone is watching. I shiver again. All of a sudden, I get the sensation of someone breathing down the back of my neck. I flick my head around to see behind me is empty. I turn back around hastily. My skin is crawling and the sickness in my stomach has seemed to intensify and strengthen.

The light switches on in the room and I'm reminded of _Paranormal Activity. _I don't know whether I should scream or prepare myself for a hateful ghost or spirit. The light goes out a few seconds later. I walk to the middle of the room and shift my gaze around. I want to cry out for Sam or Stan. Anyone who would listen.

I hear a muffle scream of "Greta," and I turn around as fast as I can to the sound. My breathing and heart rate seem to have quickened. I can hear the blood rushing is my ears. I feel, at least I think, sly, cold fingers tracing down my arms. I turn but, like before, no ones behind me. I close my eyes for a second and re-open them. I need to calm down. Sucking in a breath, I try to silence the fear running riots through my veins.

I clutch the knife tighter in my fist and ready my stake. Even if its just human thieves, I want to be ready. I hear a thud and I gasp. _Calm. Remain calm. _As I turn around again, I feel myself lifted by something and thrown across the room. My head hit the metal spiral staircase. Automatically, my hand goes to the back of my head. My fingers draw back and I see shiny red blood on my fingertips. My head snaps up, painfully, and I look at my attacker.

He's blond, tall and pale but I recognise him as Leon. His eyes, no longer the green-blue, are glowing red. Clumsily, I stagger to my feet and raise my stake. Amazingly, it's still in my hand. The world goes hazy for a second before coming to itself again. My eyes are focused on Leon. I take a step forward, ready to attack him, when something crashes into me from above. I tumble to the ground, my head coming into contact with it first then my back.

The air is knocked put of me and my sight goes out of focus again. When it rights itself, I stare into the eyes of the pretty Asian girl that served me and Sam at that bakery. Like Leon, her eyes are red-rimmed and glowing. Immediately, my hands come up and I grapple with her. Rolling her over, my fist hits her face and I try to get a good hold of the stake in my shorts seeing as I dropped the other one when she jumped on top of me. She's so strong, but she doesn't seem to be an old stringoi. She try's to push me off her, and nearly does when I finally get a hold of the stake and I bring it down into her chest. She screams and spasms. I push it in harder and soon she stills.

I wrench the stake out of her and look up at Leon, only to see that he's flanked by another three stringoi. I stumble to my feet and face them, but none of them move. One of them takes a step forward. He's tall like Leon but has harder features and dark hair. I see him bare his teeth and fangs at me. He takes another step forward, ready to pounce, when Leon holds out his arm to stop him. What are they waiting for? Why aren't they jumping to rip my throat out like most stringoi would do? I poise my stake in front of me and hold it at the level of Leon's heart. Leon smirks at me before he opens his mouth to speak.

"Hello, Little Girl." His voice is mocking.

"Where are Sam and Stan?" I growl accusingly. He smirks.

"You mean them?" The stringoi part and Leon's hand goes back to show both the guardians bound, gaged and bleeding. Two more stringoi push them to their knees and both of the guardians growl up at them. Sam's eyes meet mine for a second, but I turn back to Leon. My stake is still in my grip but I don't move. "You see, they were stopping us from getting to you. Very loyal, I must say. My friends here had to bind their wrists and ankles because they wouldn't stop thrashing about." Leon says. "Very loud too, I might add."

I feel horrified. I don't know what to do. I'm out numbered nearly ten to one and there may be more stringoi in the house. Keeping watch outside. I have no idea. Leon's glowing eyes are fixed on me. "I must not be so rude." He says, "I have not introduced myself properly. I'm Leon Calvert. This is Alex," he points to the dark haired stringoi on his right. "This is Jade." The stringoi next to him snarls at me, her fangs flashing like her blond hair. "Those two back their with your friends are Jeremiah and Conner. Outside are Zoe, Jack, Lily and Balthazar." Leon 'friends' all snarl at me. I return the favour. "Now that you know who I am, I'd like to know who you are, Little Girl."

"I'm not little." I say aggressively.

"As I can see," Leon's eyes travel down my body, stopping at my breasts and legs. "Most definite not." I've been told many times that I had my mother's curvy figure and that I was sexy by both Moroi and dhampire. I always ignored their observations. Leon's features go hard. "Answer me," he orders. When I don't say anything Leon says. "Let me help you, Little Girl. Your father is Dimitri Belikov, is he not?" I don't answer him so Leon continues. "And your mother is Rosemarie Hathaway." It wasn't a question. He knew they were my parents. I bite my lip. "So, it is true then." Leon says, "dhampires found a way to reproduce with each other." His eyes glow brighter at that moment. Leon takes a step forward. One step too close.

My stake lashed out, aiming for his heart, when his hand caught my wrist and twisted me around. Leon pins my arm past the point of pain. I gasped but held back my scream of agony. I would _not_ give this bastard the satisfaction of seeing me in pain. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Little Girl." He threatens me, his mouth by my ear. Leon's grip on my arm tightens and I cry out. "Drop the stake." He said. "Drop the stake before I break your arm."

"No," I say definitely. Leon twists my arm higher and I grunt. It's so painful. The muscles in my arm are stretched so far that I can feel them going numb. "No," I say again with a growl. My stake is in my other hand and I raise it slowly. I bring it down of Leon's thigh. He screams and lets my arm go. Leon staggers back, clutching his leg.

"You bitch!" Leon's spits at me. While he's distracted, I race forward and raise my stake again, ready to impale it in him. This time instead the two stringoi next to him seise me. They pull me away from Leon. I feel one of their mouths at my throat, ready to bite me, when Leon shouts, "No!" The stringoi lift their heads immediately. "Are you stupid? You know what master will do if he finds out you bit her and take even a drop of her blood."

"But she smells so good!" Jade whines. "Why can't we just have a sip?"

"Because you won't stop." Leon says. "Release her. Now." His demands are met and the stringoi release me with a snarl. I have no weapon to fight any of them with. I'm helpless. The stake I dropped when they took my arms and held me back is at Leon's feet. I don't want to take my eyes off him. His companions move back to his side. "Now," Leon says, "I will ask you this once more. If you don't answer or lie, your friends-" Sam points towards Sam and Stan, "-will have their necks snapped." On queue, the two stringoi standing behind the guardians step forward and place both their hands on Sam and Stan's head, ready to twist. "Are you or are you not the daughter of Rose Hathaway and Dimitri Belikov?"

My eyes shift to Sam and Stan. Their eyes are wide with hatred, but I see no distress. I would've expected even the toughest of guardians to be at least a little intimidated by the prospect of having their necks snapped. Sam's eyes meet mine and he shakes his head. I don't know what that's meant to mean. _Down worry about us _or _don't tell them_? "I'm growing impatient, Little Girl." Leon growls. I flick my head back towards him. "I'm being generous with you. My friends here are hungry and would very much like to eat. And right now, you little protectors with do for a fine meal."

"No," I say, "you will not feed off them." The stringoi cackle mockingly at me but I stand my ground. I look towards the stake at Leon's feet again, thinking about ways to get to it.

"And whose going to stop us, darling?" Connor says. It's the first time he's spoken. His voice is so enticing and has a heavy French accent, but is as cold as ice.

The stake, maybe I can dive for it if Leon turns around and walks a few steps I can. Maybe I don't need the stake. I look towards the kitchen for a second before my eyes dart back to Leon's face.

"Your trying my patience," he says, "I'd say something now if I were in your position, Little Girl. Before your friends meet the blackness of their death." I do the first thing I think of, I sprint to the kitchen, grab another knife. I through the blade and hits Leon square in between his eyes. Blood runs down his nose, to his neck before disappearing into his shirt. He didn't even flinch, didn't even feel any pain. Leon's hands come up to the hilt of the blade and wrench it out of his head. My mouth is agape and I see the wound close over, the blood stopping. His face looks at me with such burning hatred I take a step back.

In a second, he's on me, grabbing at me. "That was an unwise move, Little Girl." He fumes. I tremble in his painful grasp. "I will give you one more chance. Are you Belikov's daughter or not?" I get a glimpse of Stan, his eyes are full of fear that I never knew he had. I surrender myself.

"Yes." The next thing I know, I've been thrown onto the hard, enamel kitchen floor. My head hits it first and I cry out. My vision goes black and blurry for a few seconds. I feel so out of it that I barely see Leon's pale face looming over me. I feel like a rag doll as he picks me up again. He holds my throat tightly and I gasp. My shaky hands grip his wrist.

"What's your name, Little Girl?" Leon asks with a triumphant smile. His grip tightens and I try to suck in any breath I can get, but already my vision is going fuzzy and I'm dizzy. I try to answer him, but my voice has gone with the air in my lungs.

"Can't... Breathe." I gasp out, my voice breathless. At this Leon throws me again. I feel something shatter under me and I realise its the coffee table.

Warm, sticky blood pools around my head. I can't see, can't move. But at least I can breathe again. I can vaguely hear commotion around me, sounds of panic and triumph. Voices. Everywhere. The throbbing in my head becomes less intense and I try and roll over. I succeed. Feeling the sharp edges of glass in my side, I push myself up onto my knees before getting to my feet. I look at Leon. "Coward," I say. "Can't even throw a punch." I taunt him. I see anger blaze behind his glowing red eyes. In a second, he's next to me and has his iron grip around my neck. "Can't even control his own anger,"

I'm going to regret this, I know, but at least I can have a bit of fun while I'm still awake, since I probably won't be for much longer. Leon's jaw clenches and unclenches. I'm waiting to be throw across the room again. "Can't even do what he wants because he scared of his master." I must have struck a cord in Leon because the next things I register is that my head has been thrown down onto something hard and everything goes a swirling, velvety black.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9:**

I'm falling. No, I'm dreaming. No, I'm doing neither. I'm waking up. Sort of. I feel as though I'm standing on top of something high and someone's pushed me. I plummet to a ground that doesn't exist. I feel my stomach drop and my legs go numb and shaky. The feeling is strange, like my blood was separated and then pushed to different ends of my body with a flush.

I hit the ground and fall back into my own body with a sigh of relief. My eyes are closed, my breathing a bit shaken from my fall back to earth.

I'm cold, I realise. And my body feels stretched, like my hands are at the opposite ends of a bar and my legs are in a straddle of some sort. _What was I dreaming about? _I can't remember. _Was I having a nightmare? _No. I don't know.

My eyes are still glued shut, not wanting to open them because of the bright morning sun. But I see no evidence of any light coming in at all apart from a soft glow. _Did I fall asleep reading again? _No, I don't think so. I finished the only book I had with me. _I couldn't have been studying. _No, I'm not a St Vladimir's. _I'm not at St Vladimir's. _

My eyes jolt open and I try to sit up. I gasp in surprise when I realise something is holding me down. I look around. This isn't my room back in Goose Creek. Not the house.

The room I'm in is huge. Probably three times the size of my room back at the academy, and everything is a maroon or red with bits of gold splashed in every now and then. Stripy red and gold wall paper adorn some of the tall walls. The ceiling is extremely high and pictures of gold, silver and white baby angles are painted all over it, telling a story I can't even begin to understand.

I'm on a bed. A very big one, I might add. Underneath me, is a fluffy deep purple-y-red donna. Under my head is a matching set of pillows, soft as a baby's skin. I try and pull my arms down to my side so I can warm them up, but they won't budge. I look up and notice that both my wrists are bound to the bed posts. Next, I tug at my feet and again they won't move either, they're bound just like my hands.

I look down at my body and realise why I'm cold. I'm naked. From top to bottom. I keep tugging at my limbs, but neither move an inch. My skin already feels raw and stings.

_I could still be dreaming, _I point out, _it could be some wild fantasy that I most definitely don't think about. _Because, quite frankly, I don't. I never really had time to think about sex. I was constantly training and such. But still, it is maybe even a tiny bit possible. Perhaps my Christian Grey will walk in at any moment.

_No, _I say firmly, _this feels to real. I'm not having some wild dream. _I try to sit up again but only get up a few centimetres. I hold myself there and stare in front of me.

"Greta?" A familiar voice echoes. "Are you awake?" I have a small heart attack as I turn my head in the direction of the voice. To one side of the bed, I see Sam and Stan, both tied to chairs with grim expressions. Both of them are looking at me, and my eyes go wide. I try helplessly to cover myself but I'm bound too tightly.

"We've seen it all before, Greta." Stan's says but still everts his eyes. I feel my body get hot and blush fiercely.

"Where are we?" I ask them as I give my last attempt to shield my body from their eyes. I groan in frustration and look back at the guardians. Both of them are looking down. "Why am I here? Why am I tied up like... Like this?" I say uncertainly. My brows crease.

Then I remember Leon.

Soon after that I remember being thrown around and the guardian's faces as Leon hit my head against something. Then blacking out and falling back into my own body.

"You don't remember?" Stan's asks and he looks up briefly.

"I remember." I say, "I want to know why we aren't dead. I thought stringoi are ruthless killers. They don't hesitate at causing pain."

"Its not always the case. They would only ever do something like this if they wanted something or wanted to provoke someone. I'm going to take a wild guess here and say they want your father to react and come get you." Sam says. His face is cast downwards towards hell as he says the words. I feel tears come to my eyes.

"So, they can kill him?"

"Most likely." Stan says. His voice is emotionless.

"How can you say that in that in such a monotone way?" I say angrily. "I would have thought that the thought that one of your own dying at the hands of stringoi would at least bring a little emotion out of even the stoniest of guardians." My jaw is clenched and my throat aches from holding back tears that rim my eyes. I breath in and out shakily.

At that moment, on the other side of the room, there's the sound of foot steps. I didn't notice them before but on one side of the room are two huge white and gold double French doors. Really, I feel stupid not seeing them, because, quite literally, they're huge, stretching from the floor almost to the high ceiling. I look back at Sam and he tells me to be quiet.

When the titanic sized doors open, I don't make I sound, I don't look up. Just stare forward. The deep red carpet under the feet of the invader is silent.

"My my," a breathy male voice says. "What a beautiful sight." I don't turn to look at him, whoever he _is_, but I feel his gaze burning a hole through me. It weighs on me to the point where I have to look at him.

Standing to the side of the room is a tall pale man without a flaw on his skin. His dead-straight dark hair is tied back a little with two handfuls of it cascading down his front, stopping just below his chest. His red eyes glow luminous in the dim light. He looks like a very old fashioned, stereotypical Dracula figure but younger. Much younger, like a twenty year old. His pale face his surprisingly handsome. His smile is blindingly bright and is laced with two long fangs. But the thing that surprises me most is that his face looks strikingly like Leon's. "Such beauty."

His gaze travel from my face down my body, lingering on my breasts and the tops of my thighs. I blush fiercely and try and close my legs.

"Looks can be deceiving." A new voice speaks up, and it's so cold I feel my bones go to ice. Leon steps out from behind the other, older stringoi. His blonde hair looks darker in the poor lighting, but his eyes have turned a deep red. This is what I would expect the colour of lust to be. But all I see is pure loathing for me and the guardians, still tied to their chairs on the other side of the room. "Hello, Little Girl. Miss me?" I growl at Leon through clenched teeth.

"She's got some bite in her, doesn't she, Leon?" The other stringoi cackles a breathless laugh and claps his pale hands together. I hear Leon mutter, "so do I" before being silenced by the other stringoi.

The stringoi with the long, dark hair takes a couple of steps forward, a smile on his face, his eyes glued on mine the whole drawn out time. He stops not to the right side of the bed.

"Who are you?" I ask.

"Oh, how rude of me not to introduce myself." He genuinely looks appalled with himself. "My name is Nazareth." Nazareth gestures to Leon, "and this is my son, Leon. I'm sure you two have met before."

"I never would've thought that a stringoi could have a name as holy as Nazareth." I say. It really does seem funny. Stringoi couldn't enter holy ground and I heard from some novice that the name of God scorches their throats. So, hearing a stringoi introduce himself as the place where Jesus Christ was born seems extremely... Unusual. Nazareth just smiles.

"Before I was Awakened some two hundred years ago, I came from a very religious family. Many of my brothers and sisters were named after people and places from the bible." Nazareth's face turns downwards and he begins to pace. "I had my son Leon here a month or so before I was awakened. He is my only son, seeing as his mother died giving birth to him, and as you must very well know, stringoi can't reproduce.

"I left him in the care of his grandmother. I didn't see him for many years until I came back for him and Awakened him. We have been living together since the mid 1800's."

"You both look nothing alike." I say for no particular reason, not really expecting an answer. "I know," Nazareth's eyes lift back up to my face and he gives me a cold stare. "You, on the other hand, look just like your father. You have his height and features."

"What you know about him?" I ask coldly. Nazareth chuckles softly.

"I met your father briefly many years ago. Very recently awakened. But with the cruelty of someone centuries older. His one flaw was his obsession with your mother. Rose Hathaway, I believe." His face darkens as he says my mother's name. "He had great plans for her. I was one of the few who knew of his 'ideas'. He was a very smart man." Nazareth looks down before adding, "and a great lose to our ranks."

"How sad," I say sickly sweet. "Why am I here?" My gaze is cold and accusing. Nazareth's face breaks into a huge smile. He laughs loudly.

"Oh, My Dear," he says breathlessly, "isn't it obvious?"

"Well, if I'm asking then, no." I say with a sneer. My gaze is so full of hate towards the stringoi standing in front of me, I feel a heavy, clenched feeling in my stomach.

"When your father was changed back into his dhampir form, he made the terrible mistake of sacrificing many of our own. He made many powerful enemies including myself. But a two hundred year old stringoi is nothing compared to a seven hundred year old one." Nazareth speaks enthusiastically. "What we want is to see your father dead, with his throat torn out and life leaving him." Nazareth's face darkens. "Which brings us back to you, My Dear. We only very recently found out about you, and before hand, we considered kidnapping your mother, but we were against the idea. To many stringoi would've been slain if we tried to enter the royal court. So we waited, for years. But then, a miracle. One of our spies gave us news of a girl. The offspring of Belikov and Hathaway. And we thought what better way to lurer your father out of the safety of the academy's wards than to take the thing that keeps him in them out... you." Nazareth finishes his speech and looks at me.

"So that threatening letter that was sent to that academy-"

"-was sent by myself, with, of course, the help of a few others. It was meant to provoke, and it did, seeing as your here and bound. Along with your loyal protectors."

"So, you didn't want to hurt me? Just lurer my father out?" What kind of sick person does that? Stringoi obviously. I stare Nazareth dead in the eyes.

"Oh no, My Dear. No, I intend on hurting you. Because if you hurt so does your father. You see, if I had no intention of doing you any harm, I would've just raided the academy, like we did some twenty years ago, when I believe your mother was still a student and your father was her mentor. More then that I believe." Nazareth smirks. "Far more than that."

I just stare at him, wide eyes and worried. My mind travels to a whole manner of different scenarios. I see myself bleeding with a knife to my throat, me being burned, me at the mercy of the pale man in front of me. I shrink back into myself. "Oh, My Dear, I seem to have frightened you." He claps his hands together and frowns. "But this is necessary."

"Cowards," I say, "Both of you. Picking on someone who is defenceless," Leon sneers

"I do that every night, Little Girl." His face is set in a cold smirk. Nazareth turns to face his son, and, from Leon's expression, it's not a nice look he's getting.

"Leave us, Leon." Nazareth says in a dark voice. "Get something to eat, your looking paler than usual." Leon stands for a few seconds before asking his father.

"What about them?" Leon points to the guardians. "Can I have them?" Nazareth sighs.

"Do what you like, Leon. Whatever makes you leave quicker."

Leon gives me one more sneer before slowly walks over to where the guardians are bound to their chairs. He stalks behind them, like a panther ready to pounce. The guardians don't give Leon the satisfaction of seeing them flinch away. I watch Leon's every move. "Be hasty, Leon. I have things to do and you here is delaying them." Leon nods and stops his pacing behind Stan. Roughly, Leon pushes Stan's head to the side and sinks his teeth into his neck. Stan's face contorts in pain for less than a second before he moans in pleasure and he closes his eyes.

I watch, mouth open as his skin gets paler and paler. Then it hits me, Leon was killing him.

"Stop!" I scream. "You're killing him!" Leon doesn't stop drinking but turns his eyes towards me for a second or so. I turn to Nazareth. "Tell him to stop! Please!"

"Leon!" His father yells across the room and like that Leon is no longer drinking. His head shoots up and looks at his father. Stan's head droops but I think he's still conscious. Just a little, but it's something. Stan tips his head back and I see an intoxicated smile on his lips and he sighs. He's more conscious than I thought, but he must have lost quite a bit of blood. I hope that his colour returns soon, him being this pale isn't healthy. My head turns back to Nazareth when he speaks. "You will not drink from the dhampirs again. You'd have killed him then if I hadn't had stopped you. Now leave." Nazareth points to the door. Leon casts his gaze downwards before storming out of the room.

The huge doors close with a deep bang. The room is silent for a few moments and my eyes are on Nazareth. "I apologise for my son's actions. I'm afraid he can be a bit, how do you modern people put it? Oh yes, over the top." He says.

"It's sort of creepy that you look the same age as your son," I say. Nazareth doesn't say anything, just takes off his long, navy blue jacket. Under it is a plain white t-shirt. Nazareth walks over to a chair that is sitting over in the far corner of the room and drapes the jacket over it, before walking back and standing at the foot of the bed, staring at my body.

I tug on ropes that bind my wrists and ankles but still they don't budge.

"They won't come un-done, My Dear. I did them myself." Nazareth braces his callused hands on both bed posts down the bottom on the bed, still looking me up and done. I see him lick his lips. I look towards Sam and a still out-of-it Stan. Stan still has goofy look on his face but Sam's face is hard and set, watching Nazareth's every move.

I realise that my breathing had become shallow and that I was panicking. I didn't like Nazareth looking at me like that, like a predatory ready to devour some poor, helpless animal. "You look worried, My Dear." My mouth opens, ready to reply when Nazareth steps away from the bed and strips his shirt. I look back at Sam, and he doesn't look happy. Extraordinarily uncomfortable to say the least. I remember Sam's homosexuality, but the look on his face says that's not what's bothering him. I look back Nazareth and see him gazing right back at me, one of his arms braced on the bed post. His dark, imposing figure standing above me is intimidating.

I swallow hard but down turn away from his brooding gaze. His long hair has been tossed over one shoulder and looks like an inky, cascading waterfall. The hand that isn't braced on the post comes down and strokes my cheek. I swallow again.

"Don't touch her!" I hear Sam growl from across the room. He sounds so powerful yet helpless. I hear him struggling with his ropes and the chair make soft thudding sounds on the carpet as he jumps to try and loosen himself. Above me, I hear Nazareth chuckle. I look towards Stan and see that he's recovered a bit. Next to him, Sam has a murderous look in his eyes, some dangerous spark that's been ignited. I see that his jaw is clenched.

"Watch me," Nazareth snarls. His face ducks down to my neck and I feel him bite down. Agony. That's what I register for half a second then just pure bliss. I moan, well I think I do anyway. Distantly, I feel Nazareth's hands snake down my body, touching me I places I've never been touched before. Instead of pleasure, I feel repulsed and horrible. I gasp and break away from his mouth. The euphoria I'm in goes away in a matter of seconds and I feel more awake than I have in a long while. Even with my hands bound, I manage to wriggle away. It's not far, a couple of inches at the most, but I want to be as far away from him as possible.

My arms feel strained and cold. "Stay away from me," I murmur, my eyes wide. My blood drips down from Nazareth's mouth and his teeth are stained yellow. "Don't touch me," I feel a sob catch in my throat. "Go away," my fists clench.

"As you will, but there are others that are very willing to take my place," Nazareth grabs his clothes and hastily throws them on. Striding to the doors with confidence, he throws them open. Outside, I hear voices. Nazareth turns his head back to me and smirks. "Have fun, My Dear." Then he leaves but I don't feel myself relaxed. Something in my stomachs turns over and I don't like it.

My head snaps back to the doors when I hear footsteps enter the room again. Nazareth left the doors open and to my horror five more stringoi are stalking in, their mouths turned up in a sneer and the eyes glowing a crimson red. I jolt and turn my head to the guardians. Stan's sobered up now, well and truly. His eyes are wide, but not with fear. Our guardian mantra comes to my head _They come first. _Stan has tensed up, his face hard. He looks very much like a cornered lion, so fierce yet so helpless. Sam has a similar look on his face.

My head turns back to the stringoi, all five of them moving towards me with a hungry look in their eyes. I'm not sure if its because their hungry or looking down my body. I hate both the prospects. I tug helplessly on the ropes that bind me to the bed. _Please, _I beg silently to anyone who will listen.

The stringoi stand over me, a couple on one side of the bed the rest on the other. My face is covered with there dark shadows. Putting on a brave face, I return their glowing stares.

"Get away from me," I try my best to sound fierce but the stringoi laugh at me.

"She's got some bite, doesn't she?" One of them hoots, voice cold and snarky. I turn my head towards him. He's shorter than the others and has jet black hair.

"And one hell of a body," another quips. This one's on the opposite side of the bed. He's extraordinarily tall which probably means that he was a Moroi before he was awakened. He looks like a human at the age of thirty to thirty-five.

In the group, I notice that there is only one girl. My eyes lock with her's and she growls, baring her fangs at me. The other stringoi turn her way and lower their heads. She moves forward and the crowd parts for her. She looks like the Asian girl I staked back in Goose Creek. They could've been sisters or twins.

Shit, I staked her sister!

The girls face looms over me and I gulp. The girl places a hand on the post, just above my hand. I notice now that the other stringoi have gone silent and are looking at the girl hovering above my face. I close my eyes for a second, expecting to be hit or something. This must've angered her. She lets out a roar and grabs my chin, yanking on it. My eyes open in an instant and lock on her's, seeing them glow an angry red.

"You will not look away from me!" She hisses, loathing for me in her voice. Her grip tightens and I let out a gasp of pain, wondering why my jaw hasn't been crushed yet. "You staked my sister, you little whore!" She yells in my ear. I cringe.

"That's not very nice." my voice had turned arrogant. "I never knew you guys had that much emotion in you," I say boldly. The Asian girl hits me across the face. I feel my cheeks inflame and become hot. I don't even flinch.

"You will not speak!" She orders. "Whores like you don't deserve to speak."

One of the four male stringoi, one of the taller ones, puts a hand on her forearm.

"Easy, Lea." He says in a mocking voice. "If you give her a heart attack, her blood won't taste as good." He eyes me and licks his lips. He looks so familiar and I recognise him as one of the stringoi from Goose Creek. Connor, I think his name was.

Connor takes a step forward and looks down on me while pushing the other girl back. He looks so much like Uncle Christian. If his eyes were that piercing blue, they could almost look like twins. I hate that fact. I love Uncle Christian and loath that this stringoi looks so much like him.

Thinking of Uncle Christian makes me think of my mum and dad. Then Aunty Lissa, then Uncle Adrian and Hamish, his brothers and sister, my cousins. I feel myself catch another sob, but I quickly forget about my family when Connor bites down on my neck and I feel the rush of endorphins. I moan before feeling small pricks of pain all over my body. The rush becomes stronger and I vaguely realise the stringoi are biting me all at once.

I feel lost yet so close to heaven. My body loosens. I don't care what happens just that I want to stay in this state. I feel so amazingly high that all the drugs in the world wouldn't even come close to making me feel like this. Calloused things crawl over my body, touching me. I barley notice them as the stringoi keep drinking from me.

Then I feel it fading away, and it's not because they've stopped drinking. _I'm dying, _my on-cloud-nine mind sighs happily_. _But I don't care. I feel hands slide down my waist to my hips to in between my thighs. God, do I not care. It's too good, it feels to good. I breathing becomes shallow, my heart slowing and just like that the stringoi are off me, the rush is gone, my sense of self gone with it. Without the delightful rush, I feel dizzy from the blood loss. The world spins and my eyes go out of focus as my body tries to recover. I feel awful now, utterly sick that I let them do that to me. Violate me like that. The dizziness is still there when I feel a weight on me.

I don't have the energy to look, but it feels horribly wrong. I hear voices in the background, shouting. I think it's Sam and Stan. They sound panicked and angry. In return, I register hisses, but they're not exasperated or angry, more mocking, taunting. Then I feel it... Pain. A horrible, uncomfortable pain where my thighs are. I softly yell out in agony, and I feel tears sting my eyes.

I don't even know how I'm awake, but as seconds pass I begin to recover, bit by bit, and register what's going on around me. I feel that pain again, over and over. I arch my back off the bed and wriggle painfully. I hear malicious laughter around me and I cry out over and over again as the pain doesn't ebb.

When I feel I have the strength to, I lift my head and look down at myself. I'm still a bit dizzy and out-of-it but there is no mistaking that there is someone on top of me, a man. The coal black hair comes into view, then the glowing red eyes. Connor. I feel that pain again, more deeply. I look away from Connor and...

...I cry out again in mental agony as I realise what he's doing. No, I refuse to contemplate it, but the pain I'm feeling forces me to.

"Get off me, you sick monster!" I growl at him but he doesn't stop. I begin to cry softly as his thrusts become more forceful. I hear stringoi chanting him on. I cry harder, and cringe. "Please," I beg him through my tears, "Please, stop." My face feels hot and but the pain is slowly is ebbing away _down there_. I wish now that I had blacked out from blood loss, or even died. This feels horrible.

My salty tasting tears drip onto my neck, down my shoulders and into the mattress. My voice is so weak and powerless when I say: "Please stop. I beg you."

"I like it when girls beg," Connor sneers breathlessly. "I'll be done in a minute, Darling." At this his thrusts become harder and more urgent. I sob and weep as he continues, trying to think of anything else.

To my left, I hear the guardians yelling, cursing the stringoi and telling them to stop. Connor's thrusts are harder, and he laughs mockingly before his face contorts into something I've never seen on a man before. Pleasure. He lowers his face to my neck and bites down. I hear him growl and bite down harder. I feel that rush of bliss and pleasure again. It's only there for a second or so before Connor rips his fangs from my neck and roars his release. I feel his seed inside me, a repulsed feeling rising in my stomach.

Not very gracefully, he rolls off me and lies there for a second before composing himself and standing up. He grabs his clothes and throws them on. I start to cry again and close my eyes. "Thank-you, Darling." He laughs and leaves room with the others, closing the doors behind him. I don't feel the high anymore, just an awful, empty feeling. I refuse to look at the guardians. I feel so violated and helpless, like...like a damsel in distress. And that's what I hate the most.

From the blood loss and...what just happened, feeling so defeated and betrayed, I don't know what else to do. I cry harder, tears falling freely into the pillow under my head.

"Greta?" Sam qhooes softly, almost sounding afraid to speak. My body shakes with sobs as I hear his voice. "Please look at us." He sounds so desperate, like my father when I was younger and I would cry over not being able to see my mother. I clench the insides of my throat and bite my lip. Slowly, I turn my head towards them both. Facing them, I feel weak. I eyes ache from crying and my face throbs. Trying to breathe steadily, my eyes lock with Sam's. Instantly, tears begin to fall once more. I close my eyes, turning the world black, and turn away from the guardian's faces.

I yearn to be with my mum and dad, to be held and comforted. No, I can't think like that. No one's here. My breath is shaky and uneven. I set my jaw and open my eyes, suddenly feeling a burning hatred and loathing towards the stringoi. I grit my teeth as I try and soothe myself. If I assess the situation, from trying to come free of these binds and escaping, it's impossible.

I sniffle and face the guardians. I'm no longer crying. _I must not look weak, _but it's harder than I thought to put on a brave face. I breathe in and out, calming myself with every breath. Although, when I speak my voice comes out dry and shaky, "How long have we been here?" I ask. I remember that Stan was meant to check in with the academy every day, and I'm sure it's been more than one day.

"Three days," Stan says. It's only now that I notice that, (and it has nothing to do with the fact that the stringoi drank from Stan.) both of them look rather pale. "Greta, what just happened-" I cut him off.

"-is rape. I know that, but right now I'm trying not to focus on it." I ignore the tears that threaten to fall. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I speak again: "Have either of eaten while we've been here?" The guardians shake their heads. "Are they trying to kill you?" My eyes widen. I think of how Leon fed off Stan and wonder if that was the only time.

The doors bang open. I expect it to be more stringoi, coming to bite me or...

But it's not. A woman walks in gracefully. She's looks rather dazed. I look at her sceptically and notice a bruise or two on her neck. She holds a tray in her hands, I hope it's food for Sam and Stan, seeing as they hadn't eaten in days. It's then that I notice that I'm not even the tiniest bit hungry. But, unfortunately, I see not even the slightest ration of food on the tray.

Bringing over the plush chair over in one of the corners, the woman sits down on it, the tray on her lap. I look down at it and see different beauty instruments. I look back up at her face and see she's giving me a dazed smile. _Blood whore? _No, that doesn't seem fair. This isn't uncommon. Many humans are drawn into the stringoi's grasp with the appealing thing called eternal life. Stringoi are powerful, and the humans that hang around with them want what they have. They do whatever the stringoi ask, hoping one day they will awaken them.

The woman in front of me must've been here a while, for on her throat are shiny scars from the bite of a stringoi. She looks about thirty, maybe a couple of years younger.

The thing the surprises me most is that along with the beauty things on the tray, I see two long pieces of rope, hand cuffs and a knife. I look up at the woman's face and see she still has that glazed-over smile glued to her lips.

"My name is Marion," she says in a high, dreamy voice. Ok, she _may_ be a blood whore. The way she speaks is like the way the feeders back at the academy speak right after they've given blood. She looks unimaginably high. "Don't move,"

Picking up the knife, I flinch. Is she going to cut me? Slit my throat? I close my eyes ready for the knife's harsh blade against my skin. But instead I feel my arm loosen and fall a bit. Before I can think to move them, Marion grabs the cuffs and puts them around both my wrists before cutting the other rope.

I sigh as I feel blood re-circulate my arms. I sit up and roll my shoulders while crossing my arms over my chest. My arms feel cold, and I already feel the pointy feeling of pins and needles running along them. I rub them, trying to warm them up while getting rid of the painful, prickly feeling running up and down through them.

With both hands on the tray's sides, Marion lifts herself to her feet and places the tray on the table next to the bed. Now that I'm sitting up, I felt the ache in my legs.

"You wouldn't be able to loosen the ropes on my ankles, would you?" I ask hopefully. Marion shakes her head silently and picks up something from the tray. An old fashioned razor. I really don't like seeing that girl with a razor in her hand. Her eyes look focused, and don't look like she intends to do me harm. "Do you have any food?" Marion shakes her head again and moves to the foot of the bed and climbs onto it. "Whoa. No, I'm not..."

Marion shushes me and brings the razor down onto my pubic hair. "Ow!" I wail. My legs kick out vainly. I try push the away girl away. "Water might help." I say and suppress a groan, "and soap." The girl looks up at me for a second or so before retreating off the bed and out the door before returning with soap and a bucket of water in hand. Her face looks impassive but still a bit high.

Taking up her old place at the end of the bed, she reaches into the bucket and picks up a dripping cloth. She doesn't ring out the excess water into the bucket but onto my pubic hair. She gets the soap and rubs it into the cloth and squeezes it over me again. The water is cold but the comparison of it compared to the temperature on my skin isn't big. I wrap my arms more tightly around myself and lie back down, my mind wandering. I barely notice the girl until a question springs to mind. Sitting back up, I ask. "Where are we?"

"Near the boarder of South Carolina." Marion says. That was easy.

"Why did you tell me?"

"Because master says that if you know where you are, you may somehow give the location to your father, so he can come and get you." Her voice brightens when she talked about her 'master'. This feels far to much like _50 Shades of Grey. _All we need is Marion's master to own a grey tie and be named Christian.

Uncle Christian comes to mind. I miss my family so much, even if I don't see my aunt and uncle much I still yearn to see them, to talk to them. Mum and dad come to mind for the second time today and I feel tears sting my eyes. "Oh, please don't cry, Miss. If you cry I'll get into trouble." My eyes look up to meet the Marion's frantic ones. She looks frightened as her eyes dart to the door then back at me. Nothing happens, but for her sake I hold in my sobs. I wipe my eyes as best I can with my cuffed hands and when the woman relaxes she tells me to lie back and lift my arms.

In the time she's been here, she shaved pretty much my whole lower half. I don't even know how she did the other side of my legs seeing as they're tied down. Bringing the bucket back around, she kneels beside me, wets the cloth with soapy water again and rubs my underarms.

At the academy, I tried my hardest to keep myself hair free, waxing my legs and other places to stunt my hair's growth. But I hadn't done that before I left Montana and now I feel awfully embarrassed. I hate having hair anywhere on my body apart from my head and eyebrows.

After she's done my underarms, Marion places the bucket by the door. Returning to my side she grabs tweezers and starts doing my eye brows. It doesn't take long. Then the most uncomfortable thing I've ever had to experience in my life happens. After making my hair free Marion grabs moisturiser and rubs it all over my body. "Sorry," she apologises. "Master says that I have to or he'll hurt me." I just nod and lie, not moving. Marion's done quickly. Setting down the moisturiser, she grabs a small vile of perfume and carefully dabs it onto my body.

When she's finished with me Marion apologises to me before tying my wrist back to the bed post. Before Marion leaves, I ask: "Who is your master, Marion?" She smiles at me.

"Leon Calvert. Nazareth Calvert's son." She says dreamily. Her eyes glaze over, obviously wandering to her 'angel' Leon.

"Why'd he make you do this to me." I try to gesture down to my naked body. Marion shrugs

"I don't know," she admits. "He didn't say." With the tray in her hands, she pushes the double doors open and walks out. The doors close with a bang and the room fills with silence.

Well, that was...strange. I smell like a beautiful flower, like a rose. I never really liked that metaphor. I feel exhausted from the blood loss and 'activities' of today. I close my eyes and fall into a dreamless sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: **

I don't know what time it is when I wake. My body clock has gone haywire. I can't see the sun because there are no windows and the only light in the room is two dimly lit lamps. I turn my head to the left and look at the guardians. Sam's asleep, his head hung low, breathing steadily. Stan on the other hand is watching the room. When he sees I'm awake he try's to smile. It's awkward though, forced.

"Try not to make a sound," he whispers softly. I nod. My head feels as if its been hit and is just waking up from, what I would think would feel like, a coma. If my arms were free, I would've rubbed my temples, trying to soothe its god-awful acing and throbbing.

I need water, I realise. And food. My body needs to recover.

I look down at myself and notice four deep purple bruises from where I was bitten. No doubt there's one on my neck too. Inside the bruises, I see teeth marks. There are two on my stomach, one on one of my breasts and one on my thigh, each of them glaring up at me crudely.

The ones on my stomach have running drips of dried blood around them. _My _blood. I swallow and close my eyes, trying to fall back to sleep. It doesn't come at all. I feel restless and being tied down to this bed doesn't help. Even if I could walk around, I would be happy. I feel stiff from being in the same position for this long. I need to stretch.

It was probably only twenty minutes but it felt like three hours when the double doors open and Nazareth saunters in. At the sight of him, I feel hatred boil inside me. Behind Nazareth, walking with as much cockiness as his father, is Leon. I clench my jaw and stare him down. Nazareth steps forward and claps his hands together, smiling.

"Oh, My Dear." He says. "Don't you look nice." He turns to Leon. "Your whore did a good job." I clench my jaw at the insult towards Marion. Right now, I wish that I had my mother's witty, sarcastic side. But no, I'm stuck with my dad's controlled, zen shit. Perhaps I should meditate. But the best thing I can think of doing is sneer.

The sound of a soft human grunt echoes through the room. I turn and see that Stan as woken Sam up. His eyes look tired for a moment before switching to his cold, hard guardians glare. He stares down the stringoi, as does Stan, but Leon and Nazareth aren't looking at them. Both sets of glowing, red-rimmed eyes locked with my brown ones, both of them smirking at me.

"Don't look at us like that, Darling." Leon says innocently. He takes a step forward in front of his father, putting his hands on his hips under his washed-out green t-shirt. There was a soft knock at the door. Nazareth smiles and tells them to come in.

I look to the guardians, still tied to their chairs. Both of them have on what my mother would call a 'guardian mask'. Their eyes are on the new comer in the room. It actually turns out to be new com_ers. _Five stringoi who I have never seen before waltz into the room. I wriggle in my binds, shifting to get a better look at them.

All of them look frighteningly the same in the way their faces look, not like twins or triplets, but the way their faces are set and angled. Plus the snarky, unforgiving air that lingers around them.

They're in a sort of V formation, a tall, dark haired man at the front. I can tell, just by the way he looks, he's old. Far older than Nazareth or Leon. Or anyone else in the room. The others behind him seem afraid. Not that it showed exactly, but the way they lingered two of three paces behind the Dark Hair. He really only looks about thirty, but more porcelain and cleanly cut.

The stringoi behind him seem rather young. Younger than Nazareth and Leon, although still powerful. There are two girls in the group and two boys, all of their expressions cocky. None of them have looked my way yet. I decide to stay quiet, at least for a little while. One of them catches my eye. With his dark looks, he reminds me of a male version of Snow White. Her description comes to my head, _skin as white as snow. Lips as red as blood. Hair as black as ebony. _It's eerie the way he looks. If he were human or dhampir or Moroi, I would've called him beautiful, but the unnatural air around him makes him twisted. A beautiful body with not an inch of humanity in it.

In fact all of them, apart from the old one, look shockingly like how fairy tale characters were described, not in their faces but their hair and eyes. All of them are coldly beautiful, like the way a statue is. Handsome yet dead in the eyes.

The man at the front, the old one, saunters up to Nazareth and talks to him in a low voice. I barely hear it and only catch little snippets of the conversation, but it's in a language I don't understand. It sounds vaguely like Latin or some ancient language. Greek perhaps. Soon enough, the dark haired man turns to me and his eyes ghost over my body. They're only there for a couple of seconds before he turns back to Nazareth and continues his conversation.

A few seconds later, the dark haired man slowly walks to one of the sides of the bed. His face is expressionless as he stares down at my face. His fingers leisurely raise and stroke my cheek. I flinch. He frowns.

"Why do you flinch away me, Girl?" He asks softly, as if he's hurt. It's one of the strangest sounds I've ever heard come out of anyone.

"Because you repulse me." I spit. The man's face doesn't change, nor does he move. He seems frozen. The man blinks once and shakes his head slightly. He sighs.

"Allow me to introduce myself," he says a fraction louder. "My name is Cornelius." It may have been because of his hushed voice but I now recognise some kind of accent. It sounds German or Dutch. Yet he can speak Latin. He must really be old.

His features are cast by shadow, making him look more threatening and sinister. "You seem afraid of me."

"I am not afraid of you. You don't scare me." I say through clenched teeth. Cornelius's face was so close to mine, and for some reason all I could think about was how the stringoi had bitten me yesterday. How good it had felt. How I wanted to feel that pleasure all over again.

Cornelius's mouth is open a little and I catch a glimpse of his fangs, long and sharp. "How old are you?" I ask. Cornelius blinks and answers:

"Five hundred and twenty-seven." His voice is matter-of-fact as he replies. His red eyes bore into mine and I don't know what else to do. I'm absolutely amazed that he's that old, not that that's a good thing. It makes him harder to kill.

The older the stringoi, the harder it is to kill. Stringoi gain strength from feeding off humans, Moroi and dhampires. Moroi in particular.

"As our blood drains away, it flows to life inside of the stringoi who takes it from us." My mother had told me when I had first learned about them. I had been fascinated, as most young dhampirs were. As I grew, I learned more and made up different theories about stringoi. Many of them were religious.

Standing up straight, Cornelius's eyes drift down my body landing on the bite marks in my stomach. His fingers reach out and circle it. The bruise feels slightly tender but I barely feel it. As quickly as his fingers had reached to touch the bruise on my stomach, his fangs had come down onto my neck.

I feel a shallow pain but its gone quickly and I'm taken over by a state of bliss. I moan and I feel myself smile a little. I had wanted the pleasure of a stringoi bite and now I had it. I forget where I am, forget who I am and get lost in my cloud of pleasurable happiness.

I must have been in this state for a while, because when his fangs retract from my neck I feel dizziness wash over me. How much blood had I lost this time. I didn't really care, even though it was fading quickly, I still had the high. And I didn't want it to leave.

As my vision repaired itself and the dizziness disappeared, I felt Cornelius step away from the bed, exchange a few brief words with who I presume to be Nazareth, and leaves. As he walks, he says loudly: "She's all yours." The doors slam and the four other stringoi surge forward and bite into me, in all different places.

I feel that high overcome my body once more and I'm lost. I feel light and weightless. I feel the bed dip and two more stings of pain come and go as I'm filled with more pleasure. A few more seconds later I'm completely and utterly gone.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11:**

I've been hungover before, many times. I'm no saint. Back at the academy, I partied hard. Must be my mother's side of the family coming out. And I always loved it. So I know what a hangover feels like. But as I wake up (a day later Stan informs me.) I feel just as I would after a party, except for the fact that this feels some much more sickly and awful.

I can't even see straight, my vision is blurry and I feel drained of all energy. I couldn't care less what happens to me know, just that this feeling of shaky-dizziness goes away.

You know when your going to or have to thrown up? Yeah, my whole body feels as though it's been violently retching for hours.

When I first opened my eyes, I thought, I've made it to heaven. Everything was rimmed with bright, white light and blurry. But then my vision started to vaguely get better and my painting of hell comes into view. _Dreaming, _I thought, _I want to be dreaming. _But no, as The Rolling Stones say, _You Can't Always Get What You Want. _I don't know how many times I've knocked on my dad's door at the academy and hearing that song playing through out the room. In my opinion, my dad's a cowboy who is still stuck in the 80's. I remember telling my mum that and then her laughing.

My heart aches at the thought of my mum. I barely get to see her, a couple of times a year maybe, which, in the case of other dhampirs is pretty good, but I'm sure by know that the academy is worried about us, which means so is my dad which will or has resulted in him calling her and telling her about it and his worries. Guilt riddles my body at the thought of my dad worrying. His so strong, mentally and physically. He would face down a whole army of stringoi for me and my mum. _No, _I say firmly, _you will not cry. _I set my jaw and grit my teeth, swallowing the huge knot in my throat.

Stan and Sam are awake, and I see new bite marks on both their necks. Dark shadows lay present under their eyes, their skin looking stark and pale. Both look like they haven't eaten yet. I hear a growling sound and realise that it came from Sam.

"Do you think if I ask they'll give you some food?" I ask shyly, thinking if the answer's wrong it'll make me look stupid and inexperienced. But Sam smiles at me sadly, shaking his head. I look towards Stan, but he's looking down at his lap, trying to roll his shoulders. Both of them must be aching, having their arms tied behind them. "What are we going to do?" I ask absently. My eyes travel to the body cherubs that are painted on the ceiling. They look upon me with straight, sweet expressions. If they could talk, I wonder what other horrors they've witness in this room.

"Your necks," I start shyly. "They can't keep doing that to you if your not eating. You'll die eventually." I sigh, "And I don't want to lose either of you. Especially to any of them." Stan looks up at my words. He smiles dryly at me, almost grimacing. "I will not have either of you dying on me. Not here. Both of you can die heroes in a war, or when you're old and sick and in bed." Sam tries his best to give me a smile. "Not here." I repeat.

Even just speaking for a matter of two minutes is tiring. I need food, not just for me but for the guardians. Maybe if Marion comes in again, I can ask her then. Looking down at myself, seeing that the hair on my legs is slowly growing back.

Finding the strength to say one last thing, I ask: "While I was... Sleeping did anyone else... Come in and...?" I leave the question hanging in the air. Sam, after a dramatically long pause, nods his head. Well, what was I expecting?

I want it fall back into myself and sleep for a long, long time. And eventually I do and, surprisingly enough, dream.

I'm in Greece. I don't know how I know that but I do. I'm looking down on the bright blue roves of houses below me with the soft sounds of the ocean drifting up from further down the shoreline. It's beautiful and quiet, just me standing in the sun. I feel it's warm rays flowing down onto my face and chest. A gentle breeze picks up and lifts the tank top I'm wearing. Looking down on myself I notice I'm only wearing thin cotton shorts and some flat, strapy sandals. I look relaxed and pretty, the colour of the shorts bringing out my tanned skin I inherited from my mother.

"Don't you look beautiful." A familiar voice sounds behind me. The sun seems to burn brighter and warmer as I turn around and see my aunty, Lissa. I jump at her and nearly topple her over. I hug her, harder than I've ever hugged anyone, never been so relieved to see someone I love. I realise now that this is a spirit dream. According to Uncle Adrian, it took Lissa years to master.

Aunty Lissa looks so elegant in a long flowing dress that sways as she walks and brushes her ankles. Around her waist, she wears a belt of gold and in her platinum blond hair is a golden crown. If she weren't so pale, I would've thought she looked like a Mediterranean princess. Or queen.

We stare at each other for a few seconds, smiling, before her face changes into something I've seen many times. It's the face she gets when she addresses her parliament with an issue or resolve. When she stands and speaks, she draws the room in. Even if she was just talking about dirt, she would talk about it with such heart and passion that the room would stop what they're doing just to listen.

She walks me forward to where I was standing, looking out at the bright blue ocean, holding my hand in hers. We don't speak for a moment when she breaks the silent: "Your mum is so worried about you, Greta. Hell, I am too." She begins. She turns to face me. "Where are you, Greta?" Aunty Lissa's face is creased with worry. "We can help you if you can tell me." I look at her astounded.

"You think I wouldn't tell you?" I say. "I don't actually know where I am. All I know is that I'm somewhere near the boarded of South Carolina."

"How long have you been there for?" She asks fretfully.

"I'm not sure how long it's been. Near a week Stan tells me. Sometime last week, we were taken by stringoi. I was sleeping and I heard banging so I went to look. I couldn't find anyone in the house. I went searching. And Stan wasn't at his post so I thought something must be wrong. And sure enough, stringoi had taken the house and gagged and bound the guardians. I killed one of them. But we're out numbered nearly ten to one. I wanted to do something, I did. I tried, I really did." My eyes well with tears. "They threw us around and I got knocked out, and I pretty much ended up at this huge house with Sam and Stan." Oh my God. "They're starving them," I wail. "Both guardians haven't eaten since we were at the house and the stringoi they're feeding off them and..."

I leave my words hanging in the air between us. Aunty Lissa doesn't say anything but her head tilts, her eyes cast down to my neck. They widen and quickly look back up at mine.

"And?" When I look at the ground, she puts both her hands on my shoulders. I flinch. "Greta, you need to tell me." She says frantically, lifting my face up with her finger.

"They, the stringoi, have bitten me too. Several times. And they..." My voice catches. "They, um, they've been raping me. They make the guardians watch. And I wake up with knew bite marks on me every day." Silence hangs between us for a second.

"Why?" She asks her voice sounding uneven. "They would usually just kill they're victims. Not take them hostage and... And do that."

"They said whatever hurts me hurts my dad." I say angrily. My anger isn't directed at my aunt and I hope she sees that. She smiles at me sadly, putting a hand on my cheek.

"Greta, look at me." She says. I lift my eyes to her jade green ones. "Your mother and father have done so much for me and I could never repay them for what they have done for me and Christian. Nor any other guardians who have protected me and my family over the years." She pauses a moment. "For you, for your mother and father, I would scourer the whole of South Carolina until I find you. I would look all over the world for you if it meant that your mother and father had you back. That I had you back."

I don't realise I've begun crying until Aunty Lissa begins wiping away my tears. She gathers me into her arms and hugs me as I cry into her shoulder.

"Please don't do anything irrational." I whisper into her hair. She nods slowly. We break apart and stare back out to the glistening Greek isles. I stop crying. The sun had begun to set and I sigh. "Thank you for bringing me here." I say peacefully. I feel at total ease, something I haven't felt in the last week.

"I didn't choose where we were. I let you do that." She says slowly. "And you chose here. In Greece. Have you ever been here before?" She asks curiously.

"No," I say wistfully. "But I've always wanted to come, to see the blue roves and ocean. I always wanted a picture of my family standing here. Just us. Something I could keep forever, of just us. It would be so... Normal." My voice is soft and light, thinking of my parents.

"Where else would you like to go?" Lissa asks me.

"India, as in the jungle. And Switzerland, to the Alpes. France." I answer. "There are so many places in this world I would love to visit. Venice, Brazil, Egypt."

"Not very picky are you." Lissa laughs. I smile truly for what feels like the first time in ten years. "Tell you what, when you get back I'll take you to the place we're standing all the way to the Amazon rainforest." My smile gets bigger.

"You don't have to do that. Besides its really expensive, I'm not worth that much." Lissa looks shocked at my words.

"You are worth more than a billion trips around the world. Worth more than anything, Sweetheart. Please don't forget that, not now." She hugs me again and we just stand for a while, watching the sun go down, turning the icy blue water to a beautiful gold.

Before the sun is completely gone, I turn back to my aunt. I'm about to say something when everything goes shaky.

"What's happening?" I cry in panic. Lissa holds my forearms in her hands but I can already feel her touch fading. I grab onto what I can of her, but she's turning to dust before my very eyes.

"Your being woken up." She answers far less calm than normal.

"No!" I scream. "I don't want to leave. Don't make me disappear. Please." My voice sounds so faint and weak. Before she's gone, Aunty Lissa says to me frantically:

"We're coming to get you. Don't worry."

My eyes shoot open I scream as pain stabs through my arms. Two leering faces of stringoi I don't know are hovering over mine. I realise they've cut my binds, both on my ankles and wrists. Pulling me up into sitting position roughly, I feel a wave of dizziness wash over me. It doesn't ebb away quickly and when it does it leaves an intense and painful aching in my head. Instinctively, it try to lift one of my hands to rub my temples but when I do I feel the iron grip around my arms get harder. The stringoi holding me violently twists my arm is a funny direction. I hear something crack and I cry out in agony. The stringoi twists it further and my arm cracks again. I scream. God, it hurts so much. "Please," I beg him. "Please stop. My arm... It's braking."

"Stop what?" The stringoi asks innocently. "This?" He twists my arm again and I scream out. He hold my arm there for a few seconds before bringing it back to my side.

"Stop it, Drake." Says the other stringoi. "The more you damage her, the more likely you are to be killed out if spite." Drake shoots dangers at his companion but let's my arm go.

"Please let go of me." I say to the other stringoi. I look at his pale face. He scowls at me.

"I do not take orders from a blood whore." The term 'blood whore' hits me like a slap in the face. I know my mother had been called one before but I never have.

"But you do from Nazareth and Cornelius, don't you?" I say boldly. I stare him down, never wavering. The stringoi growls at me, baring his fangs.

"If the blood whore wants you to let her go, what more can you do?" Drake sneers at his partner. Letting me go with another growl, the stringoi get off the bed. Immediately, my non-broken arm cradles my broken one. It looks twisted and disjointed. It throbs as my body tries to repair itself. Dhampirs and Moroi heal quicker than humans but a break will still take at least four weeks to right itself. And I don't believe the stringoi are going to bind my wounds like they bound my limbs to the bed.

Walking ahead of me, the two stringoi walk forward and force the huge doors open. "Wait," I say. Both stringoi turn instantly with an annoyed expression. "What about them?" I point to the guardians bound to their chairs. I hear them snigger.

"Don't worry." Nameless says. "You'll be coming back very soon." The stringoi turn back towards the open door and I catch the first glimpse of the space outside of this one. Instead of rich, deep red carpet the floor turns to a cold, hard white marble. The room, much like the bedroom, is spacious and huge. Airy and filled with light.

Maybe ten metres in front of me in what I believe to be a staircase. On opposite sides of the room are two huge, floor to ceiling glass windows, letting in the sun. Wait, sun? I watch amazed and horrified as the stringoi pass by it without even a hint of pain or discomfort. "The window pains have been doubled glazed and been modified to still let in light but shield us from the sun's actual rays. Intelligent, isn't it?" Drake says.

"'Intelligent' isn't the word I'd use." I say meekly.

"Well, my little whore, what word should you use?" Nameless asks me. I sigh.

"'Idiotic' is the word I would use."

"Why?" Drake questions.

"Because it would be so easy for the glass to break and for _actual sunlight _to come in and obliterate you."

"Won't happen," Drake says simply. "As well as filtering it's also bullet proof and reinforced. So, there's no way to get in or out apart from the front door."

"Where are you taking me?" I ask angrily. I was contemplating my chance of escape by jumping out the window but now that chance has gone down to about zero. Damn bullet proofing.

The stringoi don't answer me straight away. They lead me to the foot of the staircase and begin to push me up it. I'm still stark naked and really I don't particularly want my ass in their faces. Lightly clutching my broken arm to my chest, I try and shield myself from the prying eyes of the stringoi on the bottom floor and the ones coming down the stairs. There really must be a lot of them here.

I stop at the midway part of the stairs and look out thought the huge window flanked by heavy looking cream curtains. Outside, the grounds look huge and I've only seen what is probably a minuscule part of them. Where it ends, starts a dark hedge of trees that must lead into a forest. It must go from one end of the estate to the other. Behind me, the stringoi push me back on course and we continue out ascent up the stairs.

It gets darker up here. Leading me forward, Nameless and Drake walk me towards huge oak doors. Pushing them open, they creak. Shoving me in first, the stringoi close the door after them. The scene reminds me of some James Bond film. Everything looks so much like a rich, old man's office. The rich, burgundy curtains are pulled shut with only a tiny bit of light filtering through them. A long desk stands in front of me and a huge leather chair behind it, turned away from me. A bookcase is sitting proudly behind the chair and desk. Really, I'm expecting a Bond villian to turn around, stroking a cat and say "I've been expecting you, Miss Belikov."

In one corner of the room, a huge fire burns brightly. It provides the only real light in the room. If I weren't in a house full of stringoi, I would've found it comfy and cozy.

Like the chair, against a wall is a longish burgundy, leather couch. There are no pillows or cushions on it. A familiar and sinister voice fills the room, decidedly German accented.

"Sit her down," it says. The stringoi follow their master's orders, pushing me forward until I topple over on to the couch. I must have been sweating because I feel the couch stick to me a little, sending little pin pricks of pain through my skin.

The chair turns and there sits Cornelius. He, sadly, isn't stroking a cat. Animals don't like stringoi. Like dhampires, they must sense some kind of predator in them. If my arm weren't broken, I would've wrapped my arms around myself much more tightly. "There is no need to be modest, my girl." Cornelius says quietly. "I've seen many women in my five hundred years. It's nothing I haven't seen before."

"That doesn't mean I want you to see it." I spit spitefully. My voice is so full of hate for him and the other two. It sounds so unlike _me. _I hate being angry, I like having control over myself, another thing I inherited from my dad. I try and channel his calm but it won't come.

"You have some bite in you, don't you? A fire. Like your mother." Cornelius gets up. "You look like her, you know. But your fathers jaw and eyes."

"What would you know about my mother and father?" My voice raises slightly.

"Enough." Her says simply. "I never met either of your parents. It's sad actually. Your father was due to meet me a week or so after he was returned to his dhampir state. I hear that he gained many allies as a stringoi, and then many more enemies when he changed back."

I don't quite know what to say. I've heard this all before form Nazareth, I don't need to hear it from Cornelius too. I don't want to stay silent so I speak up.

"Why am I here?" I ask tiredly. "If I'm here for worthless chit-chat, I would like to be taken back to my room." I begin to get up. "Also, me and my guardians haven't eaten for nearly a week. If you keep feeding off us and not give us food, they'll die. And so will I. Then your leverage will be gone." I walk to the doors. I find it funny that no one has tried to stop me.

I'm about to push the doors open when Cornelius's voice booms: "Get back her now, Girl!" I don't feel fear nor any other emotion, but there's something in his voice that makes me turn around. I see anger blazing in his eyes. I couldn't care less. Which isn't good, seeing as he's a half-a-millennium-year-old stringoi. "You will to turn your back on me!" He seethes. Walking towards me in long, striking steps, Cornelius grips my arms hard. My broken one screams in agony, but I refuse to show any sign of pain. "I called you here for a reason. Now, I don't like you, nor your family. But you are going to call your father and you are going to tell him where you are." He eyes glow brightly as he speaks.

"But I don't _know _where I am." I say defiantly. I stare Cornelius down and he growls.

"Chesnee." He howls at me. Chesnee isn't very big. I would've thought to feed they would've been somewhere more populated. But no, there in a town with the population of less than nine hundred. Funny.

"I don't have a phone to call him." I say through clenched teeth. Sighing and regaining his composure, Cornelius turns back the desk and picks up what I presume to be a phone. It is. Cornelius turns back around and chucks it at me. I catch it as best I can with one hand and dial my dad's number.

It rings a couple of times before I hear "Guardian Belikov." Dad sounds different since the last time I talked to him. He sounds stressed and angry and anxious. I feel a sob rise.

"Dad," I speak in Russian so that the other stringoi can't understand what I'm saying. There's silence on the other end, but I hear a faint sob type sound. "Papa." I say quietly. "Please answer me," I whisper, my voice cracking. "Please."

"Greta," he murmurs. I still hear his soft crying through the phone. He sniffs, righting himself. There's no back ground noise other than a soft murmur that wasn't from my father. "Oh, Greta." He sighs. "I'm going to come and get you, Beautiful." He speaks in English but I can hear his accent coming out strongly as he talks. "Where are you?"

"Chesnee." I say, no longer in Russian. "On the South Carolina boarder." I hear a muffled sound on the other end, and I think it might be my dad slumping against a wall.

"I'm coming to get you, Greta." He repeats with so much love and relief. "I'm going to bring you back to the academy." I sob to the phone.

"No," I say switching back to Russian. "There are are at least a hundred stringoi here and all of them are old. Centuries old. They all want you head on a spike and your blood pooling around your dead body." I hate saying this to him. It sounds so final, my words, like there is no way it is possible for him to come for me and survive at the same time.

"I don't care, Greta." His voice raises slightly and I can't tell whether its from anger or despair. "I would go to the ends of the earth to get you back." He says and tears well in my eyes.

"Lissa came to me in a dream before." I mumble into the phone.

"I know." Dad says. "She called me a couple of minutes ago." I sob. That means she told him everything I told her. I sob again and I feel a tear sliding down my cheek. "Fight them, Greta." He tells me passionately. I cry harder.

"I can't. They bind me to the bed when they do it. I can't move." I sniffle and wipe my eyes.

"How many times has it happened?" He whispers.

"Once when I was conscious, and another two times when I wasn't." I add. "They bite me too. Everyday." I clench my jaw tightly as I hold back more tears and sobs.

"Greta, listen to me." He tells me desperately. "I need you to stay strong for me. For you mother too. She's coming down from court to help with the search. We've let the academy in South Carolina know as well. St. Seraphina's. Please, stay strong. We're coming to get..." The phone is ripped from my hands and Cornelius taps something on it, putting it on speaker. The two stringoi grabs my arms roughly and I cry out in pain as they twist them. My already broken one screams in pure, white-hot agony. I scream along with it.

"You hear that, Guardian Belikov." Cornelius sneers into the phone. "That's the sound of your beloved daughter crying out in excruciating pain." They twist my arm again. I hear no more snaps but the vexatious feelings going through my arm is unbearable. "Everyday you don't come, the more she will hurt. And believe me, I have no end to my list of torture she will endure."

The stringoi twist again and something does crack and shift in my shoulder. Not only have they severely broken my arm, they've also dislocated my shoulder. If anything, it hurts more than my newly dismembered bone. I scream again.

"Please," I beg them, forgetting my dad for a second. "It hurts. Please," I whimper like a puppy writhing in pain. "I beg you, please." I say desperately. Cornelius nods and I fall to the floor with a thud. I don't try to break my fall, so I fall flat on my face, crying.

"You know what we want." Cornelius sneers into the phone, looking down at me. "You have a very beautiful daughter, Guardian Belikov. And I assure you, that beauty will not be wasted. The longer she stays, the hungrier my stringoi I become. They want a taste of her. I, myself, have already had that pleasure. And there are many more of us who are waiting for their turn. I've heard, in more ways than one, how well she blossoms in their mouths. I'm sure I will want another taste of her soon." His eyes bore into mine. "Very soon."

"You will not touch her!" My dad growl viciously. He speaks in English, his voice loud and intense. Grabbing me by the throat, Cornelius lifts me up, my feet dangling in mid air. I clutch at his wrist, trying to pry his hand off me. I gasp for air that won't make it down to my lungs.

"Can't...breathe." I splutter. "Please, let me go... Can't..." I gasp out, feeling my head go dizzy. "... Breathe." My vision fills with black stars and my head aches. Then I'm back on the floor with a thud. I cough and gasp for air and I'm relieved when it enters my lungs. My non broken arm comes up to my throat instinctively. I just lie there, at Cornelius's feet, not moving.

"She's here, in a large house. One of the first you see when you first enter Chesnee from the west. There's a long drive way, flanked with tall hedges. You can't miss it." And Cornelius hangs up the phone.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12: **

**Dimitri POV: **

Beeps sound on the other end of the phone. My teeth are clenched and I feel anger boil up inside me. The guardians around me are silent, waiting to see I would do. My control snaps, control I tried so hard to keep through the phone call. I take a step forward slowly and throw the phone at a wall before turning to the wall behind me. I punch a hole through it. Wrenching my arm away, I lean my forehead against above the hole.

I bang my clenched fist there. I feel something I haven't felt in a long time crawl there way down my cheeks. Tears. Hastily, I wipe them away. I should not be crying. When I trained in Russia my instructors drilled it into us not to show out emotions, to put up a mask.

"Guardian Belikov?" I turn to the sound of my name. It's Alberta. She stands in front of me with a concerned look on her face, very rare for her.

"You heard her, she's still in South Carolina," I begin shakily. _Get a hold. _"At the boarder. Chesnee."

"Are Guardian Alto and Smith still with her?" She asks me.

"I don't know." I look at the floor, down at my feet. "She didn't say." I lift my head. Suddenly angry. I need control but I can't seem to muster it. "They're feeding off her!" I yell. "They're torturing her! She's hurting, and I'm just sitting here! You heard her, all of you did. She was screaming for them to stop! Begging them! They bind her to her bed so she can't do anything but struggle!" I slump against the wall, tired and frustrated. She should not have to go through this because of me. "It should be me, bound to my bed while they torture me, not her." I place my head in my hands and fall to the ground. "This is all my fault." The way I'm acting, it isn't me. I know it isn't. But just the mere thought of anyone hurting Greta brings me over the edge of fury. She doesn't deserve this.

_Don't hesitate. _That old mantra comes to my mind. It was the first lesson I ever taught my Roza when she was still a novice. Oh, I would not hesitate in killing each and every stringoi that ever laid a hand on my daughter.

"Did she give you an address of some type?" One of the other guardians asked. Guardian Woods. He's not very old maybe thirty at the most.

"No," I sneer at him. He doesn't deserve my anger. I try and calm myself. "Sorry." I apologise. "No, she didn't. But one of the stringoi gave me a description of the location..."

**Greta POV: **

I leave the room in tears of pain and anger. Drake and Nameless have to drag me out. I don't struggle. I'm too tired, from blood-loss, the lake of food and the pain surging through my body. I early trip over going down the stairs. Instead of holding my arms, the stringoi hold my waist and hips. I don't care anymore. I can't find the energy to care at all.

We reach the bedroom, finally. I collapse the sight, feeling relief for once in seeing it. Picking me up roughly, the stringoi dump me of the bed, lift my arms (painfully so) and re-tie them to the bed. At the movement, a feeling of burning resides in my shoulder for a while. The doors bang shut and silence fills the room

"What do they want?" Sam asks, breaking the silence. I turn to face him, which stretches my broken arm agonisingly. Wincing, I answer:

"They wanted me to call my dad." I close my eyes, feeling as though I betrayed them somehow. I don't want to look at them, to see there faces and judgement. "They wanted me to tell him where we were."

"And did you?" Stan asks sceptically. Mustering the courage, I look towards him and nod.

"I didn't know what else I was to do, give up where we were or stay silent. I told him that all of them are old and hate him. That there a lots if them. I told him all I knew."

"And what did Guardian Belikov say?"

"That he would go to the ends of the earth to find us. That he didn't care if they wanted his head. He's coming."

"How ever mightily he is, Belikov can't take on a hundred stringoi by himself." Stan says to Sam. Sam nods his head in agreement and turns to me, but says nothing. "Who's he coming with?"

"I imagine, an army." Sam says. Stan looks at him angrily, glaring his death glare.

"Don't joke about this, Smith. This is serious." Sam looks equally as mad as Stan.

"You think I don't see the seriousness of this situation? I was trying to ease the tension here. She is tied down to a bed and can't do anything to defend herself. If it were me, I would at least like someone to _try _and make me feel better." Sam looks towards me and I smile at him and say thank you. He nods and turns back to Stan.

"Sorry," Stan apologises. Then his brows crease. "Your arm," he starts. "It's swelling. It shouldn't be tied up like that, it'll damage it more."

"Tell them that. Besides, its already past healing. What's a bit more?" I grumble. "I told them we needed food. Maybe they'll give you some now."

"Thank-you, Greta. You're being very kind." Stan says. Was that a compliment? Yes it was, from the great Stan Alto too. I smile at him.

"I believe you just gave me a compliment, Stan. Even if it was a small one." I say, giggling a bit. I hate being giggly, but I continue smiling at them. Although, it doesn't last long as I hear the doors banging open.

I expect to see Nazareth and/or Leon standing there but no. It's Marion. She's holding her tray again but I see things on it I didn't before. Food. My stomach grumbles at the sight of it. Marion walks into the room with a dazed look on her face like last time. Setting the tray down on the bed side table she picks up a bowl. Inside, is steaming soup.

Readying her spoon, she moves to feed it to me but I refuse. "No." I say. "Give it to them first." I jerk my head in the direction of the guardians. Marion looks at me uncertainly for a moment before getting up, walking with the soup in her hands, to the guardians. I see something in their eyes change. Their mouths open involuntarily as they look at the food. You can just see their hunger on the surface, but anyone else wouldn't have recognised it. Dropping to her knees in front of Stan, she raises the spoon to his mouth and he takes it. I see him swallow and sigh lightly.

Marion feeds him the bowl before retreating to get another bowl from the tray she brought in. She picks it up and walks towards Sam and feeds him like she did Stan. He finishes it off quickly and sighs. He smiles down at Marion. I think she smiles back before getting up from her knees and feeding me soup too. It tastes spicy and rich but I down it like a mad man. I'm not go into lie, it was good soup. I turn to look at the tray and see a few pieces of white bread and butter. Marion spreads the butter out and, like before, feeds Sam and Stan first before myself. By the end, although their faces a still pale, they seem to have regained some of their colour.

"Thank you," Sam says to Marion before she leaves. She just smiles and nods her head.

"I should be coming back tomorrow with more. At least, that's what master says." As much as I hate it I tell Marion:

"Tell your master thank you." Marion nods and leaves the room, shutting the door quietly. I just lay on the bed for a few moments. The hunger I felt has diminished slightly, it's still there but less so. Turning to the guardians, I smile at them slightly.

"Why'd you tell her to thank her master?" Stan asks quizzically.

"I'm not sure. Just felt, even though he's a bad man, he should still be thanked. Besides, if we're going to be here for a while I may as well learn to be at least a little nice."

"Even as much as they hurt you?" Sam questions.

"Like I said, I don't know. They don't deserve it but still. It'd be even worse karma if I didn't." I'm confused at my words. I hate Leon and his father for everything they've let happen to me and to my guardians. I would gladly kill them, all of them, if I could.

I just stay still for a while, trying not to move. My arm is still painful but I've noticed if I stay still it doesn't make it hurt more. Eventually I fall asleep. I don't dream of anything and neither my aunty or uncle come to me. I wake what I expect to be hours later to a silent room. I look over to the guardians and see that Stan is asleep. Sam is watching the door completely still and silent.

He sees I'm awake and turns to me, giving me a slight smile. I try and return it, but today just doesn't feel _right, _if you will. It feels like there's a huge cloud hanging over my head and I'm waiting for the storm that's brewing inside of it to come crashing down onto me. It makes me feel slightly sick. "How long was I asleep?" I whisper so not to wake Stan. He looks so peaceful and calm while he sleeps. Not the angry and frustrating teaching I knew back at the academy. When, and if, we get back to the academy I would never judge him again.

"Ten hours. Or at least I think it was. It's hard to tell when I can't see the sun." Sam frowns.

I have to agree with him. It feels awfully disorientating not seeing the outside world. I'll never take the sun and moon for granted again. I stretch out like a cat just as a shot of pain throbs through my arm. Right, it's broken. If anything, it's more painful than yesterday, and I don't think that it being tied above my head is helping. _Stay still. _I command myself. I want the pain gone and I want another bite. I'm filled with an overwhelming desire to feel the bliss and pleasure it can bring. I want it's ability to make me feel lost, to not feel any pain or suffering. Even if it is only for a minute or so. _No, you're thinking like a blood whore. You are not a blood whore. You are not a blood whore. _My face must've changed, because Sam looks at me with concern.

"You OK, Greta?" He asks uncertainly. I nod quickly and try to think of something to say.

"How long have you been up? You look really tired." I say than think otherwise. "No offence."

"None taken," Sam says. "I've been up since you went to sleep. I'm on watch."

"Watching what?" I accuse. "There's noting to watch." My voice has become higher.

"There's the door." He says jokingly, but I hear his devotion in his words. He really believes if he watches the door for long enough it will the danger will not be there. Guardians.

"Sleep, Sam." I say. "You need it. There's nothing to worry about." Well, that was a ball faced lie, but Sam really did look exhausted. I sigh. "Please, just sleep. You really do look like you need it. I'll be fine." Sam still looks uncertain. "Sleep. If something happens you'll know." I laugh shakily. Finally, Sam nods, tips his head back and closes his eyes. In a matter of minutes I hear him snoring softly. I smile to myself slightly. Both guardians look much younger as they doze, much more vulnerable.

Like Sam's, my eyes close and I fall back asleep again. That is until the door is thrown open with a bang. I jump in surprise and both guardians jerk in their chairs. In strides Nazareth, flanked by his son and trailed by a few other stringoi. I recognise Connor and Alex in the group but no one else. Like every other day, there are five stringoi in the crowd. Along with Connor and Alex, all the other stringoi in the group are girls. All of them look extraordinarily young. Younger than me. Fourteen maybe. _So young, _I think.

As avcustom to every other day, Nazareth has a smirk plastered on to his face. Beside him, Leon where's the same expression. _Like father, like son. _Both of them eye me, as do the others. Nazareth turns to the other stringoi with an exasperated expression.

"Well," he says. "You know the drill. Bite her. Do as you please. We're just here to watch." At his words, disgust fills me. And dread. The stringoi rush forward and sink their fangs into me.

I want to struggle but I can't. I'm lost in my painless paradise of euphoria and pleasure. This is what I wanted, craved. I moan as I feel hands all over my body, on my breasts, my stomach, between my thighs. I sigh, letting the bliss take me. Like the other times they've bitten me, after a while I feel the world ebb away and go blackish-grey. Hazy. I feel a slightly dizzying sensation and I start to leave consciousness. I would've submitted myself to anything they wanted at this moment. At least until they stopped drinking from me and back away from the bed.

My head throbs the way yours may after you faint or during a painful headache. As my vision once again corrects itself and the pain flows slowly out of my head, I see the room again with everyone in it. All seven of the stringoi are at the end of the bed, looking over me with leering eyes. Some of them are smirking and I catch Connor wiping his hand on his jeans. I blush and avert my eyes. My head still throbs terribly and even keeping my eyes open is hard. I just want to fall into a constant, peaceful sleep.

"Now, how was that?" Nazareth asks me with a sigh. Eww, the look on his face makes me feel sick to my stomach. I want to smack that smirk off his face. And Leon's.

"Unethical." I say. "Repulsive. Disgusting." I lie. If I keep saying it, it will be true.

"Not from where we were standing." Leon says in his cool, seductive voice. I hear his arrogance, his need to be right no matter what. But to his words I say nothing. What could I possible say to them? I did like it. A lot. I wanted them to bite me again, over and over, until I knew nothing else but the land of euphoria they bring. I feel my face inflame and turn red. I refuse to look at him, at any of them. I close my eyes for a second as the ache in my head rears its ugly head once again.

Feeling the bed dip to the right side, they fly open and stare into Leon's red ones. I gasp and try to move away only to get a stab of vexatious pain go through my arm. I grit my teeth and don't cry out at the agony. It's hard not too and I'm stuck looking into Leon's terrifying gaze. I will not show him that it makes me nervous. He doesn't deserve that satisfaction. Then his eyes are gone and his face is at my already punctured neck. He sniffs me like a dog would a bone before biting down.

Euphoria floods me but I grit my teeth against it vainly. It's feels to good to not enjoy it. And I let go a second later. Like before I feel his hands running down my body but I take no notice of them. His touch feels far to vague compared to the bliss of his bite. The dizziness comes quicker this time, taking me almost immediately. Everything ebbs away quicker and blackness surrounds my gaze. Before retreating into blackness, I catch a glimpse of the smiling cherub's faces. Then I'm gone completely.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13: **

I'm standing in front of a cathedral in Venice. On each side of me there are little gelato shops and tourists enjoying the Italian sun. St. Mark's Square. I sigh. Like Greece, the sun here is strong and hot against my bare back. I look down at myself. _Shit! _I'm still naked. Covering myself with one arm, seeing as my arm is still broken, and run for some kind of shelter.

"Greta." I turn to my name being called behind me. Standing there in shorts and a t-shirt, is my uncle, Adrian. If I weren't completely nude, I would've bounded up to him and given him a huge huge. "You look..." He trails off.

"Can you conjure up some clothes please?" I'm bending forward, trying to hide myself.

"You have to do that. I'm letting you control this dream." Another spirit dream. I think of the same shorts and tank top I wore when Lissa came to me. I look down at myself again and they're on my body. Straightening up, I walk awkwardly up to Adrian. Giving him a hug with a broken arm that isn't bound is hard to do, seeing as he holds me tightly in his embrace. I give a small cry and he releases me straight away, looking at me with concern. "What's wrong? Apart form you being..." He stops talking as I lift my arm. When I look at it, it has swelled far beyond my belief. On it also are deep purple bruises and on my wrist is a bite mark.

As Adrian examines it from top to bottom, his eyes linger on the mark. If it weren't broken, I would've yanked it away and hidden in the mark in my pocket. Adrian's eyes come up to meet mine sorrowfully. "I don't think it will help if I heal it here. It won't be better in real life." He says to me apologetically. I meet his eyes. "What have they been doing to you, Greta?" Adrian's eyes drift from my eyes to my neck, down my body to my legs. There are two or three marks still visible.

"It doesn't matter right now." I say quietly as we walk back out in the sun. In the dream Adrian doesn't seem to mind the sun on him. Usually, in the real world that is, Moroi can walk in the sun but can't stay out in it long. It makes them weak and uncomfortable. Now, Adrian doesn't seem to mind it. Savours it really.

"Of course it matters, Greta. In the normal Moroi world the rumours I hear from your aunt are still illegal." He insists.

"But right now, I'm not in the 'normal Moroi world'. I'm in the stringoi's and from what I hear and how they act, they're in anarchy. Their moral standards... Well, they don't have any." I walk with my head down, my hair tossed over one shoulder. I don't care if any if the imaginary tourists notice. They all seem to be caught in their own traveler haze to care.

Adrian and I are silent for a minute or so before he asks: "Do you want any ice cream or gelato?" I stop walking and look up at him. My stomach rumbles at the thought of food and I nod my head vigorously. We walk quicker and I hold my broken arm, cradling it to my chest. Adrian leads me over to a small, very Italian, gelato place. Outside, there are iron garden chairs with a few hanging plants and small trees in pots. It looks quite enchanting. "What do you want, Greta?" Adrian asks. I turn to the shop keeper and see he's one of my favourite Russian actors, Danila Kozlovsky. Well, it _is _my dream. If I want Danila to serve me gelato in the middle of Venice, I will have Danila serve me gelato in the middle of Venice. Hell, I could conjure up a kangaroo if I wanted. Not a bad idea.

"Anything that has some form of solid food in it." I say and my stomach grumbles at the word food. Adrian looks at me for a few seconds, so does Danila, before offering:

"Chocolate?" Oh well.

"Yeah."

"You could've just said so." Adrian tells Danila to get one chocolate flavoured one and one tequila flavoured one. Alcohol flavoured ice cream. That's new. Danila doesn't question it and returns with one brown one and one white one. I can smell the tequila in it. My uncle Adrian, like Lissa, is a spirit user, seeing as how he can reach me in my dreams. But unlike my aunt, to stop spirit's madness, he drinks and smokes. I don't blame him. Really I don't.

Adrian hands me my gelato and tells me to come. I don't come straight away. I'm to caught up staring at Danila, watching his handsome face. He smiles at me. I didn't notice it before but he's got on one of those Mr. Whippy hats on and the white t-shirt he has on makes the muscles in his biceps look bigger. I wonder if I can something sighed and have it when I wake up.

_If _I wake up.

The thought scares me. What if I don't wake up? What if I'm dead? No, I'm not dead. If I were I wouldn't be here. My smile falters and I walk towards Adrian. He has one arm stretched out, as if waiting to hug me or put an arm around me. I duck under it and Adrian lightly drapes it over me. My shoulder protests painfully and I remember that it's dislocated. "Adrian," I wince. "Can you bang my shoulder back into place. It may not help in real life but it would help now." I look him into his green eyes, nearly identical to my aunts. He nods his head and asks me to hold his cup of gelato. I take it and turn my back to him.

Placing a strong hand on my non injured shoulder, I ready myself for what I expect to be a painful experience. It is. Adrian slams his hand down onto my dislocated joint and I wail. I bite my lip and wait for the next hit. The next one is more forceful and hurts more. I groan in pain before he delivers the last one. I hear a crack and I feel my shoulder go back into its normal position. It still hurts, a lot I may add.

As soon as its back in place, I feel the sensation of magic coming out if Adrian's hands and through my body. It tingles in a good way and not only do I feel my shoulder stop hurting but my arm too. When he takes his hands off my shoulders, I bend my elbow and roll my shoulder. It feels so much better. I just hope it helped in my waking life. "Thank you,"

"Anytime, Greta." In the middle of the small square is a fountain with various gods and baby angles on it, spurting water out if their mouths, their eyes blank and white. "Wanna sit down over by the fountain?" He must've seen me staring at it. I nod my head and we walk over to it. The sun beats down onto my open back. In the Moroi world, our 'day' is the human's 'night'. This is because the Moroi can't stay out in the sun for long period of time. The dhampirs, on the other hand, have no problem with it. But _they come first _so we don't really see the sun all that much.

I feel the light spray of the fountain's water on my back. It's cool but not cold. It's quite nice actually. I take small mouthfuls of gelato. Adrian and I sit in silence for a while. It's not awkward though. My mum dated Adrian for a while. But it didn't work out very well. Over the years they bridged the gap, little by little, and when I was born he became my sort-of uncle. I don't like to think of him like that, like he's only half part of me. I love him with all my heart, as I do Uncle Christian and Aunty Lissa. Both their faces swim in my mind, pulling at my heart strings. "Why'd you pick Venice?" Adrian finally asks. He hasn't really eaten any of his gelato and it's beginning to melt. I ponder over the question.

"Not sure really." I answer. "Just thought it would be nice. Venice seems so beautiful." I look down at the cobble stone beneath my feet. I shake my leg nervously.

"I've been talking to Lissa. She and Christian are worried. Never thought I'd see the day that Christian would worry about something that isn't Lissa." Adrian sighs. "Your mother... She's taken time off from Lissa to help down at the academy. She left yesterday. She should be there now, helping for the search for you."

I feel tears prick my eyes. "I wish they wouldn't waste the resources on me. I can't be that important." Adrian just stares at me, astounded.

"Don't ever say that, Greta." He says firmly, draping his arm around me again. "Don't think of yourself as if you're worth nothing, because everyone who knows you, knows that to be a lie." I lean my head on his shoulder and close my eyes. I've wanted comfort for the last week and now I have it. I feel so loved at this moment. Just sitting here with my uncle makes me feel a world of better, but I realise it won't last for much longer. The stringoi will wake me up soon or I'll recover from the blood loss quick enough.

"I don't want to go back." I whisper into Adrian. He holds me closer and I begin to sob.

"We'll get you out of there soon enough. I promise. From what I hear, they're coming at the stringoi with everything they have." When I don't say anything, he adds: "They're going to get you out of there, Greta. You and your guardians. I know what both your parents are like when someone they love is threatened. Believe me, I've seen it. They go into this sort of mode. I don't quite know how to describe it. It's scary though, at least if you try and get in their way."

"I know." I say, remembering my dad on the phone when the stringoi were twisting my arms in horrible directions. My dad has titanium control, it can hardly ever be broken, but things like my mother and me can push him over the edge. My dad has no brothers, and I think living in a world of girls all his life may have affected him somehow.

I'm so lost in my own thoughts. Adrian and I just sit there for a while, me still wrapped in his embrace. We don't speak much until a thought hits me. "Don't you have to be awake for this?" I ask. Adrian doesn't answer for a moment before nodding his head. "Aren't you tired? You should go to sleep, Adrian. In real life. And your using spirit, it's not safe for you to be using it." He chuckles.

"A dream won't hurt me much."

"'Much'is still something, Adrian." I exclaim. "I don't want you or Lissa to come to me if it causes a risk to your mental stability. I don't know about you but I'd like to have sane family members." Adrian laughs slightly and looks at me.

"Greta, your worth my mental stability and everyone else's in the world. Besides, I'll just walk it off over a few days with a bit of help from my friend, Vodka."

"I know Sydney doesn't like you drinking." I say. Sydney was Adrian's alchemist girlfriend. She's human and had it drilled it into her from a very young age that dhampirs and Moroi were evil, sick creatures. 'Creatures of the night' the alchemists call us. But Sydney warmed up to us. Sort of. She still feels a bit nervous around us but not in a full hateful way. I like her. She's good for Adrian. I've seen him at one of his lowest points when I was younger. It was when I was six and I saw three empty bottles of Grey Goose lying on his coffee table. I remember going over to him and giving him a hug. He had just come back from Palm Springs. I begged Sydney to go to him and comfort him. He cleaned up and now he's happy.

"How long have we been here for? Because I don't know if dream time is actual time. You know it can be longer than what I think it has been."

"Well, I believe that it's been four of five hours normal time." Five hours.

"Adrian, I really think you should go home and sleep. Is Sydney with you?" I realise after I've said it that it sounds like I'm prying. "Sorry, I don't mean to pry or anything."

"It's fine, Greta." He says smiling. "Sydney's with me. She's sleeping."

"Go back to her. She must be worried about you. Tell her I miss her." Even though I don't see much of Sydney, the time I have spent with her was nice. She's like a really big sister. As in double my age. But she's nice to me and is very smart.

"Are you sure?" He asks. He sounded like he disagreed with me greatly.

"Yes. Go on. Go back to court and get some sleep. As you said, I'll be back soon." _I hope, _I add silently. Adrian nods and gives me one more tight, warm hug. Believe me, I'd pick Venice any day over being tied to a bed in pain, wondering when the next I'd be fed would be. But I worry about Adrian and I want what's best for him. I remember now that my arm and shoulder in the real world will still be broken and dislocated. At least it's my left arm not my right.

Adrian and I stay latched to each other for a while, in no rush to leave. Well, I'm not but I need him to sleep. It might make him feel better. And he'd be with Sydney. "Go, Adrian. I'll still be here tomorrow. You can visit me agin if you feel up to it."

"I would feel up to it for you, Greta. Always." And with that the world devolves into colourful dust before turning to black once more.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14: **

I don't wake for a while after that. I'm not sure if I'm dead or not. I swaying towards not. Adrian didn't visit me the next day. Or it may have been the next day. Or it could've been a few minutes. But either way, he doesn't visit me again. When I do wake up, there is a clawing sensation in my stomach and that horrible groggy feeling you get after a night of partying or waking up after a long, restless sleep.

My necks stiff when I turn it to look for Stan and Sam. I find the both still in their chairs, with new bite marks their necks and both of them conked out. Their heads are hung low and I hear both of their steady breathing, seeing their chests rise and fall in unison. I don't move, don't even stretch out my stiff limbs, as much as I want too. If I stay completely still maybe no one will come in. I know stringoi have enhanced senses. Hearing being one of them, so I don't make a sound.

I don't bother to look down at myself because I know if I do I will find new bite marks or scratches I don't really want to face. I just want to shrivel up like a rose petal and die. Or fall back in on myself and be by myself without the constant threat and need for a stringoi's bite. With waking up that desire to be bitten is back. As much as I don't want to ever see a stringoi ever again, I long for the bite they can give me, the endorphin rush the comes from their saliva.

I shiver. _Don't think about it. Your thinking like an addict whose waiting for their next fix. _I look back toward the guardians. They're still asleep and I don't want to wake them. So I just sit, or, well, lie there, not making a sound or moving. It's boring as hell. But it's better than attracting the attention of the stringoi who are lurking in every corner of this house.

I think I may have dozed off for a bit because the next time I open my eyes, I see that Stan and Sam are awake too. Not wide awake, but awake all the same. When I look at their faces they seem relieved to see I'm conscious.

"You were out for a really long time. We thought you may have died." Sam tells me in a hushed voice. I nod my head. "After you became unconscious they..."

"Yeah, I figured that." I say it as if I've heard it all before. But it still comes as a shock to me. I no longer cry over it though. "How many times did it happen? While I was out, I mean." Neither guardians say anything for a moment.

"Three more." Stan murmurs. I barely hear him. So, six now. Joy.

"They bit you a few more times too." Sam add sorrowfully. His face is full of sadness.

"It looks like they bit you too." I point out dryly. I'm just thankful I don't have to watch it happen to them. "Well, on the bright side, free porn?" My words are so uncertain and they sound stupid coming out of my mouth, as if I _enjoy _what's happening to me.

"Don't talk like that, Greta." Stan snaps before looking down at his lap. "Sorry," I sigh.

"No, it's fine. Both of you look as if you've been in a war. Have you eaten since Marion gave you the soup?" I hope they have been fed since then. They still look pale.

"Yeah, she came back in yesterday with more broth and bread." Sam says, sighing.

"Well, at least it's something." I grimace, my stomach rolling at its lack of food. It grumbles. "You sound like you need some, Greta. A lot of it at that." Stan says with a small smile. I return it dryly. I'm quiet for a few moments.

"Did Marion say when she was coming back?" I ask them hopefully. The hunger was getting to me so much now, all I could think about was food. It was so frustrating. Something I wanted but couldn't have. It was like waving a burger in front of an obese person who's trying to lose weight. Why did I use the analogy? My stomach grumbles.

The room stays silent for a long while after that, as does the rest of the house, for what I believe to be a day. I fall back asleep after a few hours, tired from the hunger and still heavy blood loss.

I dream though. It's one of those super weird dreams that make no sense at all. Something about Oleg Taktarov swimming away from a shark that doesn't exists. But he was pretty much naked, so what didn't really care.

Eventually, I wake and stay awake. I feel drained as I always do when I wake up from sleep that was full of dreams. _I really need to brush my teeth. _I nod my head in agreement. I feel disgusting, like I've been rolling in a shallow pit of clear oil. I feel it in my pores and my hair. A clammy feeling settled over me a few days ago and it hasn't left. I must have been sweating an awful lot too because I smell funny.

My head pounds. I need water, desperately. I must be dehydrated. I can taste a horrible metallic taste in my mouth and every time I swallow it becomes more intense and awful. The doors thump open but I don't turn to look. I feel too weak to even turn my head. The room stays silent so I don't think it's Nazareth or Leon or any other stringoi. _Marion. _I think hopefully. When I hear a tray being set down beside me, I know it's her. Still, I don't turn my head. I meant it, I felt far too weak to even open my eyes fully.

"Miss?" Marion breathy voice begins. "I brought you water and food." I just groan quietly. I can't bring myself to look at her. "Miss, please look at me." Her voice pleading.

"Greta," I hear Sam's voice. "Open your eyes." Only then do I open them. My vision looks hazy but corrects itself quickly. I shift my gaze to Marion and she looks relieved. She picks up a glass and puts it to my lips. I open my mouth and welcome the liquid. Gulping it down quickly, I feel some of my energy coming back to me and the water's gone too soon.

"More," I rasp. Marion turns away and refills the glass, bringing it back to my lips. I drink it quickly like before. I'm done soon. Marion chuckles nervously and picks up the food on the tray. She spoon feeds me some kind of pasta. It tastes good, really good. Like the water, I don't savour it and I barely chew it, just swallow it, filling up my stomach.

I feel like a ravenous animal. I eat quickly and not caring who watches. All I do care about is getting food into me and stopping the hungry ache that made home in my tummy. I don't even think of the guardians sitting over there. They're probably hungry too. But I don't realise it until I've finished my food. I turn to Marion. "Is there any for them?" To my happiness, there is.

Like me, Marion spoon feeds them pasta and gives them water. They thank her and so do I. Really, and I mean this literally, she's the only person her who acts like a human. Which is funny because she is one. But then I think, she wants to be one of them and the thought vanishes. I frown. All that niceness would fade away to black once she was awakened.

Marion leaves and we're alone again. I haven't moved at all and now I really feel stiff. The coldness that has been with me since the stringoi took us has lingered around, leaving me shivering, half from the cold, half from something I can't explain. I wish I had a blanket of some form. Even something light would be good right now. I'm not sure if I want to go back to sleep or not. I don't feel tired but want to get away from this hell.

The Swiss Alpes come to mind. I don't know why but they do. I want to be there, I realise after a second. I want to be snuggled up in front of a fire on wolf fur with hot chocolate and a book in my hands. I sigh. Maybe if Lissa or Adrian come again I'll go there. I have a sudden sensation of loneliness. _Sleep. _I decide. At least there I'll be comforted by my dreams.

But sleep doesn't come. No. I just lie there with my eyes closed but not heavy the way they are when you're tired. It's no surprise seeing as I'm not at all sleepy. But I want it desperately. It seems, in the last week, it has become one of my only vices. I don't particular want to face the other.

_Am I turning into a blood whore? _The thought shocks my eyes open. Am I? Could I be becoming one? I shiver again. I don't want to be one. Dhampir girls and women who aren't guardians are frowned upon. Usually, they don't become one because they have family commitments, thanks to Moroi men. Some of these women live in communes, as well as communities. Many of their _lovers _visit them often and the term 'blood whore' is given to them because people believe that they give blood during sex. Doing this has to be one the most kinkiest things in out society and is deeply shamed. But to become a blood whore would take many bites. _But you've had many stringoi biting you at_ once. _Do they count for multiply singular bites? _I don't know but my mind leans towards _yes_. Just the fact that from every bite I got, my pleasure increased two fold. _I'm a blood whore. _The thought makes me angry. With myself really. I hate that only a bite can make me submit myself to the stringoi. I hate that the stringoi know that it does. One bite, and I'm gone, with nothing able to return me but them taking the mouths off my skin.

I look down at myself, facing the knew bites that adorn my body. I see two more on my breasts, five more on my legs. I know I have some on my wrists that are new. The sight of them sickens yet thrills me. I remember the pleasure and bliss I got from the stringoi's bite, but then the aftermath makes my stomach turn over. I hate how I look. I hate that I even _look _like a blood whore. _I look like a blood whore. _I feel tears sting my eyes but I quickly blink them away. It will not cry, not about this. I'll save my tears for the death of someone I love.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15: **

I must've fallen asleep because when I open my eyes, I stare into the ones that belong to Nazareth. He just stares down at me. I don't look away, but I hear a few intakes of breath from the guardians. Willing myself not to look towards them, I stare down Nazareth.

"I hear from Cornelius you called your father." He doesn't state it as I question. He knows its true. I can tell by the look in his eyes.

"You only heard about that now?" I ask, actually astonished. "I called him a while ago. It's as if you guys don't trust each other with important information." Nazareth's face darkens. I don't see his hand until it hits my cheek with such force that I bite my tongue. Tasting blood in my mouth, I swallow my metallic, bitter tasting saliva. "Struck a cord, I see." It's probably not wise to taught a two hundred year old stringoi, but I can't help it. I smirk at him, readying myself for another slap. It comes, harder than the last one. I don't bite my tongue this time, but I feel my face throb and heat up. I probably have a large, red hand print splattered across it by now. I want to spit in this bastards face, a nice, big, sloppy bit of spit. And I do just that.

Nazareth's hand comes up to his face and he draws it back, look at my bloody saliva intently. He lifts it to his mouth. "No, don't do that." I whisper but he does it anyway. I dramatically gag. "That's disgusting. But then again, so are you." I smirk.

"Your blood tastes magnificent. Even in the form of your saliva." Nazareth licks his fingers.

"I'm so glad." I say venomously. I clench my jaw in disgust.

"So am I." His face is down at my neck, biting down. I feel my saliva briefly on my lower chin before a tsunami of bliss flows through my body, crashing into me. _No! _That little bit in my mind screams, but it goes quickly and I'm surrounded by pleasure again. I don't hold back a moan. I love this.

Then it goes. Nazareth pulls back looking at my face intently. I want to scream "why did you stop?" But hold back. I swallow as I see a little dribble of my blood run down his chin and his fangs turned the colour of yellow. Nazareth smirks.

"Your turning into my own personal blood whore, aren't you?" I grit my teeth and don't answer. No, I will not respond. But then I think that may work against me. "Just you staying silent tells me that." Yep, of course it works against me.

"Go to hell." The venom in my voice is so strong. I didn't know I had it in me. Hmm. "You know I never asked. What _are_ you going to do when and if you kill my dad? What are you going to do with us?" I flick my head in the direction of the guardians.

"You, Girl, will be awakened. Them, on the other hand, well, lets just say, you get to choose who your first meal will be. And believe me, both of them taste beautiful." Nazareth stands up straight, looking at Stan and Sam. "The blond one especially. Exquisite."

"Don't talk about them like that!" I practically scream. Nazareth smirks.

"Like what?" Nazareth asks. "Like a meal? Because that's what they are. You included, my dear. All of you, your kind. The dhampirs. The Moroi too." Nazareth's voice is full of venom.

"You're disgraceful." That has to be one of the worst insults ever. I just called a stringoi disgraceful. They have no moral standards. The line between what's acceptable and not is blurred to them. Dammit, I wish I did have more of my mother in me. I bet anything if I had brothers and sisters, they would have that sarcasm in them. But, thankfully and regretfully, two dhampirs can only produce one kid. One of the defects, I guess.

I want to spit in Nazareth's face again so badly. Nazareth smirks at me.

"It would be wise not to forget what I said. In the end, all three of you, the whole of your species, are meals. And for those who are lucky enough, they come back to have the pleasure of drinking from you." Nazareth turns to leave. "We as stringoi have no intention of letting you, any of you, live. A world without you and your good is far better than a world _with _your good."

"If the devil were present, I believe he would applaud you." I say aggressively. I feel anger boil up inside of me as I look at Nazareth's retreating form.

"I would like to think so." Is all Nazareth says before slamming the doors shut and leaving.

I huff and scream silently. That evil, calculated man. Seriously, if I wasn't obsessed with the abs on males, he would be the reason I would turn. If I could move my body in any way or could walk or my arm wasn't so severally broken, I would go and punch a wall.

Or him.

I growl. It's very audible too. I look towards the guardians and they give me strange looks.

"Sorry," I sigh. I feel drained of any energy I may have. Which, obviously, I have none. Like before, that feeling of wanting to shrivel up and die comes back. Falling in on myself right now doesn't sound like a bad idea to me at this moment. Uhh, please just let me perish.

But, no, that's not an option. No not at all. My father would be so disappointed in me if he knew I was thinking such things. But I don't particularly want to think about him right now. I feel as though I've just lead him to his death, into the cold clutches of the stringoi. The guardians are walking right into the lion's den. Now, I'm just disappointed by my own birth. If my mum and dad hadn't had sex that time in Russia, while my mum had had what ever it was done to her that made her able to have me, none of this would've happened. But then again, that may have affected my parents relationship a bit. One of them may have found someone else who was more suited for their needs. The thought makes me sad. I've never known a life where my mum and dad weren't happy and together, and, to be honest, I don't really want to know one. As I've heard from one of my mum's close friend, Sonya Karp, my parent's auras are in-sync, which means that they'll always have this kind of undying love for each other. I want that kind of love. A love that never dies. A love that would die for me and me it.

It all sounds very Romeo and Juliet, doesn't it? Damn, my mum got lucky

"What are we going to do?" I whisper, more to myself than anyone else.

"What we can." Stan says. I turn to look at him.

"But what can we do? We're bound to furniture. We barely get fed and get fed _off. _I don't see how we're going to get out if this. Without the help of other guardians. And I don't want it to come to that. I don't want any of you to have died for me. I'm one compared to maybe the fifty that may die if they come."

"Well, technically three. Three to forty." Sam says in a weak attempt to lighten the mood.

"Right, sorry." Grimacing, I turn away. I don't know what else to say, and we stay in an awkward silence for a few more hours before I doze off and sleep.

I wake hours later to the sound of the doors opening and closing with a bang. My eyes jolt open and my body flinches as I recover from being woken up. Looking towards the doors, I see that Nazareth has returned with Leon and at least seven new stringoi. There really must be a lot of them around here.

"We have news," Nazareth looks to be very happy. His pale face seems to be lit up with joy and excitement. Leon stands behind him almost solemnly.

"Your happiness is frightening." I say sarcastically. "What is this news that seems to have brightened your dark and unforgiving soul?" I slit my eyes at him, my mouth set in a scowl.

"We have news of your father." From the happy tone in his voice I would even expect that my father has died in some 'tragic' accident. Horror fills me. If its news about dad then it can't be good. Also the way Nazareth is acting doesn't help my unease.

"From our spies in the local academy-" the thought of spies in any academy is disarming. I think I see Stan and Sam flinch. They apparently don't like it either. "-we hear that _your academy _has notified them of your 'disappearance.'"

"Once again, knew this ages ago. You guys really need to pick up your game." I shake my head in mock disappointment.

"Coming from a blood whore." I hear Leon mutter. It wasn't meant to be quiet, I know, but it pushes my buttons. I fix him in a glare.

"I am not a blood whore!" I nearly scream at him in my anger. Yes, it may be a fair comment in some respects but it still hurts to hear someone say it. And right to my face. Leon cackles and takes a few steps forward towards me.

"Step away from her, Leon. You're ruining my good mood."

"Didn't know any of you possessed any form of happiness." I taunt. It wasn't my best, I'll admit, but it'll do for now.

"You know," Leon begins, getting closer to me. "aggressiveness and angst can be forthcoming because of sexual frustration. I can help with that." Leon sneers.

"The thought of you that close to me triggers my gag reflexes." The slight anger that I suppressed in my stomach flares up and I spit at Leon. There's little blood in it, a few hints here and there. My saliva hits his chin and dribbles down his neck. The few bits of blood in it stain his white t-shirt at the collar. Leon doesn't stop smirking.

"Leon, step away now. You're upsetting her." Nazareth stands with his hands behind his back. The way he speaks is firm and commanding as he tells his son to move away from me. Leon growls at me when I stick my tongue out at him.

"Better listen to your daddy, Leon. Don't want to make him angry, do you?" The other stringoi cackle at Leon. Leon turns and grabs the first stringoi he sees, a young one by the looks of it, and throws him across the room. The male stringoi goes through the wall with a crash and a thud. I laugh.

"And you say _I'm _sexually frustrated. You should take a look at yourself, Pretty Boy." I see Leon's back rise and fall quickly as he tries to muster his anger and need for destruction. His fists are clenched at his sides. The other six stringoi must be younger, much younger, because they seem to back away from Leon in fear. The move behind Nazareth sort of, as if he's some sort of road block.

"_Leon!_ Control yourself! You're no better than a human who has no self control over himself. As I'm sure the guardians say 'an undisciplined guardian is worse than no guardian at all.'" Nazareth scowls at his son. "Learn something from them." Leon gives a pointed and infuriated look at Sam and Stan. Stan returns it. I'm sure if Stan had fangs he would be baring them.

I notice that the stringoi who was thrown had recovered himself and was scowling at Leon. The other stringoi smirk at him. He's now, no doubt, in disgrace. The stringoi bares his fangs and snarls at them before taking his place back with the other, who seem to cringe away from him, as if the sight of him is poisonous. The disgraced stringoi crosses his arms over his chest and sets is eyes on me- well, my breasts really. Maybe it makes him feel better if the view is nice? _What am I saying? _I shake my head to rid the thought of my skull. I shouldn't be sympathising with them. Maybe I'm getting that mental disease where the captee sympathises with his or her captor. What's it called? Stockholm Syndrome. Yeah, that's it.

No, I most definitely wasn't getting that. For that to happen, my captors would have to be _nice _to me. Which, lets face it, they're not. Unless of course insulting, raping and taking blood without consent is what you would call '_nice_'. No, me either. Although, I hate to admit it, the blood taking has to be one of my more higher moments, no pun intended.

I close my eyes. There is an awkward silence in the room for a few moments. I break it by saying, rather tiredly: "So, why are the others here? From the look on they're faces they don't seem as happy as you are about the news. I mean, yeah, you guys have waited ages for revenge, but now you seem hesitant to give it." Leon growls at me. "Down boy, I'm just putting it out there." Then I think. "Wait, if it's so important, which one of you, if any of you, gets to murder my beloved father? I mean, he must be a prize to be won among all of you. The famous Dimitri Belikov. The one who apparently, and according to you, betrayed you in some way that I don't understand."

"I'd shut that mouth of yours if I were you, Girl." Nazareth voice rises. I ignore him.

"You talk about he killed your own kind, how he sacrificed many of you, when really you don't care about each other. It's why a group this big is so rare. None of you trust each other. You betray each other all the time. You _kill _each other, all the time too I may add. Yet, for some reason this _treason _is somehow more important. I mean one of you could kill another and none of you would lift and finger or care for that matter." I feel empowered as I say these words. Like a powerful, grown woman. _I'm a grown woman, and I do what ever I want. _Nazareth bares his teeth and fangs. "And your talk of control just goes down the drain with just a sentence. You're a hypocrite. And it's true, isn't it? What I said about how one of you being murdered by one of your own. None of you would care, young or old. If he or she were old, I believe many of you would rejoice. And if he or she were young you wouldn't care because they would've been a nobody. You would've already forgotten they're name." God, this feels good. Although, I know this wouldn't last long. I could see the anger blazing behind Nazareth's red eyes. In fact, they seem to glow brighter as a dark emotion seizes him.

I would be angry too if a young, mouthy dhampir whose meant to be scared shitless by these big, bad stringoi was mouthing off at me too. I felt the need to be cocky, hell, I _felt _cocky. And did it feel good. Mouthing off to these disgusting excuses for un-dead was probably the best things I've done since I left the academy. I smirk at them arrogantly. This must be what it feels like to be Rose Hathaway. And I didn't want it leave this feeling, ever. This feeling of power and arrogance. Nazareth, on the other hand, looks like a volcano about to erupt. "Ooh, struck a cord there, did I?" I never looked towards Sam or Stan, not wanting to see their expressions in case they had that stop-right-now-before-they-kill-us look. It must have been horrible sitting there, not being able to defend yourself when you know that you can when some stupid, young novice may be leading you towards sudden death.

But then again, I'm in the same boat, we all are. I'm tied down and there tied up. Still, if I don't live or un-dead to see another sunrise or set, at least I can go down in a fight of quips that more or less lead to me not seeing said sun rise or set. Well, if I un-dead then I'd _live _for the sunsets, I guess. This is a really sick way to have fun. Oh well, go big or go home.

Nazareth launches himself at the bed. I gulp, that feeling of empowerment leaving in haste. Cocky mood gone. Damn, I liked that mood. Nazareth grips my shoulders hard. I cry out in pain as my dislocated shoulder smoulders in white-hot agony. Fuck, that hurts. _Please let go of my shoulder! _I want to scream but suppress that need. But, by God, is that need huge. Nazareth doesn't surrender and grips me harder. I let out a sigh through clenched teeth. I lock eyes with Nazareth and keep them there. I will not move my gaze away. His eyes glow so brightly in their crimson red.

"You have no idea how much I want to rip your throat out and watch the light fade from your eyes, Girl." His voice is low and deep, threatening. I clench my jaw against the pain and say:

"But then you leverage would fade just like the light in my eyes. Gone." His face is so close to mine I can feel the cold rolling off him. Never thought I'd say that.

"You don't deserve this but I'm hungry." Nazareth ducks his head to my neck. I barely get out a weak 'no' before I'm overtaken by bliss. If I could've, I would've thrown my head back but it's sort of hard to do when it's been pushed down to cater to someone else's needs. Oh well, still feels amazing. I feel at peace with everything. Even if there are eight other stringoi around me.

_Please don't end. _I don't want it to perish, that bliss. It seems to be the only thing right now keeping me sane. _Oh... Please don't end. _But it does and soon too. I don't even have the slightest bit of blackness in the corner of my vision. Nazareth draws back his face and looks down at me. I sigh, protesting the halt of my euphoria.

"Why did you stop?" I whisper, dazed. Nazareth smiles down at me and he reminds me of the Cheshire Cat from Alice In Wonderland. His fingers stroke my cheek.

"Oh, you are on your way to being a blood whore, My Dear. A beautiful, little blood whore." I take no notice of his insult my mind set on when I'd get bitten next.

Nazareth walks away from the bed and turns to leave. Before he leaves, without Leon I note, he yells over his shoulder: "Take her." With that, the stringoi surge forward like flood waters and latch onto whatever part of my body they can get their fangs into.

Pleasure and euphoria fills me again but more intense and so much better. My pleasure seems to have multiplied sevenfold. It's at it's highest before it all starts to fade and go hazy. Not that it wasn't that already. There is a horrible ache in my head and black dots swim in my vision, making it hard to see. They pulse silver in some places, blotting out the cherubs over head more and more. The throbbing in my head becomes unbearable and I surrender myself completely to what awaits me when I leave consciousness.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16: **

There's a faint sound of thunder, just at the edge of my conscious. It's so quiet it feels almost peaceful, the loud banging and crashing in time with my heart. I feel soothed, like being in a big fluffy cloud and just floating, that serial sense of weightlessness. There's a soft pelting of rain of the roof of my head. I love storms, I always have. I've never been scared of thunder or lightning. Back at the academy, when a thunder storm approached in all it's heavy grey cloud, I would run to my dads window and look out at it's fluffy form, knowing that it brought gentle power with it.

The only thing drenching my feeling of peace is the painful ache in my head. I know I'm not fully awake yet but it's coming. I moan in pain and annoyance. No, I want to stay unconscious. Forever. I'd much rather lie here idly than go back to hell. I surrender myself to that throbbing pain in my head and fall back into blackness.

XXX

I saunter into semi-consciousness but still don't wake fully. I still hear the thunder and the occasional crack of lightning. The throbbing in my skull thrums deep and horribly, bouncing around inside me. I would groan but I'm too far gone to even think about even making the slightest sound.

Thunder booms loudly around me. Or outside. Or maybe I'm just imagining the storm. Either way, I'm grateful for the sounds nature's fury is drumming in my ears.

XXX

The thunder is gone. It's been replaced by the sounds of grunting. _Maybe I'm back home and that's just my mum and dad going at it. _But no, it's not loud enough. That's a weird thought to have, that I can distinguish what my parents sex sounds and the ones that seem to be going on, not around me but close.

I hear the faint sounds of shouts and angry growls. _Oh, it's just _Twilight. _Probably just Jacob changing into his golden wolf form. _I never bothered to read the books. I tried but I found myself bored after a few pages. I have never touched the _Twilight_ books since.

But werewolves don't exist. At least to our knowledge and the alchemist's. They're like myths really, so obviously, if there was an _actual _werewolf named Jacob, I don't believe he would be in a stringoi den. Not if he could help it.

Faintly and drowsily, I hear a scream. The scream. It's so blood curdling, so raw. It could be made my own mind, like a nightmare when all the stringoi in the house suddenly die in holy fire. Now, I'm not religious exactly. I kind of took up my mother's... Theory. So, like her, I believe that God probably does exist but I don't really want to find out. So, I believe in him as long as I can sleep in on the weekends. Although, I do believe that Hamish sometimes goes to church. His mother can be quite devoted, but I recon Uncle Christian is in the same sort of category as my mum.

I hear another scream, sounding vaguely like what I would expect to come from a stringoi when it's staked. I hear more grunts and harsh breathing. I'm still in semi-consciousness and I'm not quite sure these sounds are from some delirious dream or if they're real. I tilting towards real.

"Greta." I hear a voice whisper. "Greta, wake up." That voice, it's so familiar, so friendly and concerned. I don't move although I feel consciousness coming more quickly now and with it comes that unforgiving aches and throbbing in my head comes too. When I try to move it, I feels as though I weigh a ton and that my skull is some how made of lead. No, I don't want to move. I'm too tired and sore and heavy. This has to be once of the most intense hangovers I've ever had in my life and I haven't even drunk anything apart from a glass or two of water.

I hear something, or someone, bang against the doors. I groan. _Go away! _The noises around me are really loud and hurt my head. If I wake up in my own bed I'm taking an aspirin. And lots of it. "Greta!" The whisper has become harsher and more insistent. It wants me to wake up and there's a voice in my head agreeing with it. No, I don't want to. "Greta, they've come to get us. The guardians..." The voice trails off. I feel the muscles in my face begin to move a little.

"Guardians?" I murmur. But that takes too much energy. I breathing harshly and quickly. After what I believe to be a few seconds, I try again. "Guardians?" It still takes an effort to get the one word out but I feel myself becoming conscious again. God, I hurt. So much. Like I have weights hanging off my bones. Oh, please go away.

"Greta, open your eyes. Please. You need to." Sam's voice. That's what it is. His handsome face swims to mind. His full smile. His crystal blue eyes. I groan out his name, Stan's too. Stan. He's still here I hope. I hope he's not dead or passed out or something else.

"Greta," he's not. I hear Stan say my name softly. "Greta, look at us." I groan in response. No, I'm still not completely conscious and everything feels far too real.

Hearing a couple more screams and thuds as bodies hit the ground. This sounds like a horror film audio. I feels myself sicken at the gruesome noises. Please go away. "Greta, open your eyes. You need to open them." Stan voice has raised to a normal level. I've never heard him sound so urgent and worried. I'm grateful I can't see his face. My head aches so painfully, so intensly. I scrunch my brows together, which doesn't help because it only centres it more so and gives it a place to call home.

The doors bang open and I hear stumbling, then a scream. My eyes finally open as the noise reaches it's loudest. My vision blurs for a few seconds before correcting itself. My head feels to big for my neck and just as heavy. That horrible, vexatious pain that hammers around inside of it becomes real and more awful.

Trying to sit up, a dizzy sensation brings me back down and I close my eyes. "Who are you?" I hear Stan say to the knew comer. I hear the man pant.

"Guardian Haldro, of St. Seraphina's." the guardian's voice is stern but friendly. "Where's the girl?" He asks. I expect his head is flicking around, looking for me.

"Here." My voice sounds weak, so weak. The guardian comes over to the bed, looking down at my face. I can say him though my silted eyes.

"I'm going to get you out of here. Just got to untie your friends over there." He smiles warmly down at me. I hate feeling small and being looked down upon. I nod and Guardian Haldro leaves my side.

A few moments later I hear shuffling and know that either Stan or Sam has come undone. I shift my head to look. Stan swings his arms around and around, trying to get circulation back into them. Sam stands up immediately as he comes free, doing the same as Stan. He jerks his stiff neck and I hear the knots come loose as it cracks.

"Stakes," Sam says. "We need stakes." He looks around, as if looking for a weapon.

"Got you covered." Opening his jacket, Haldro hands two silver stakes to them. Stan tests it's weight before swinging it. He nods approvingly. He may be forty, nearly fifty, but he's still the same old Stan. Sam just looks the stake up and down before charging towards the door and looking out.

"Let me down." The words that come out of my mouth sound so fragile. "My arm, it's broken and my shoulder..." Sam is by my side, untying the knots slowly, trying to cause the least amount of pain for me. Stan unties the ropes at my ankles. I look down and notice red, angry welts have formed where the rope has rubbed. He moves to my other leg and it falls weakly with a soft thud to the bed. Sam walks to the other wrist and places it by my side. I look down at my broken arm. It's swelled maybe three or four times it's size and is blotted with purple and red bruises. I can see marks of where the bone touches the skin.

"Greta," Stan says once I'm untied, "stay here. Guardian Smith will stay with you. We're going to come back and get you after this is over." I nod my head weakly while Stan and Guardian Haldro bolt for the door, out into the face of battle.

"He shouldn't be out there," I mumble. "He's weak from being deprived of food and blood loss." Sam looks down at my face and smile dryly.

"We're guardians, Greta." He says. "We're tougher than you think. And I'm sure you feel worse than us."

"Thank you," I say suddenly. "You've done so much for me, for my family. You protected me." Sam's face darkens. He exhales slowly and I feel the warmth of his breath.

"Not well enough obviously. If we had- if I had- protected you better we wouldn't be here."

"You can't blame yourself. We were out numbered. _You _were out numbered. I've known Stan for a long time, I know how much he dedicates himself. But that took me years to understand and get. You, I've known for what? Maybe three weeks? A month at most. I can see it in your eyes that you are as dedicated as any guardian. Maybe more than dhampirs twice your age. And that's coming from the daughter of maybe two of the most amazing guardians this world has ever seen."

Sam smiles at me slightly. He sweeps me a shallow bow. "You're too kind." He turns back to the door, going back into guardian-mode almost straight away. I sit up. Dizziness falls over my head again and I have to lie down. The throbbing begins to cease slightly. "Don't sit up, Greta." Sam orders, his hands clamped around his stake. I see him readying himself for a fight. His shoulders tense and I see the tension in his body. I don't say anything, trying as well to prepare myself for what may come.

In moments, two stringoi stumble into the room chased by three other guardians. Like before I don't recognise any of them apart from the ageing Alberta. One of the stringoi I also recognise as Connor. Sam growls at him and charges forward, grabbing Connor by the back and sending the stake through his heart. Connor screams and falls to the floor, spasming every now and again. The other stringoi goes down too, quicker than light. The two guardians I don't know retreat back out in to the mass of dhampirs and stringoi.

I flinch painfully as I catch the sight of fire. It eliminates part of the wall with its light. They brought Moroi too. Stringoi scream all around, dropping left and right. Although, as every stringoi dies, so does a guardian. They're wasting of resources on three dhampirs, one of which isn't even a guardian, makes me feel sick. The dizziness falls over me again and the throbbing picks up. Blackness swirls in my vision. It's so painful. Damn, I thought this was gone.

As things fade, I swear I see Hamish, running towards me. Alberta's face swarms in front of him just before I go black.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17: **

A white light blurs my sight. Maybe I'm dead, maybe I'm on the road to heaven. Well, it's judgement day.

I hear soft, familiar voices whispered around me. Leaving my purple, cloudy dream land, I come to terms with where I am. The ceiling, instead of being decorated by cherubs and baby angels, is just a sterile white. Plain and unattractive. The ceiling of a hospital or a doctor's surgery.

A familiar face comes into view, flashing a small torch in my eyes. Dr. Olenski's hand comes up, checking my pulse and my other vitals. She says something I can't hear and don't want to hear. I must be back at St. Vladimir's if Dr. Olenski is here. Another doctor stands beside her, one I don't know at all. Her blond hair is up in a bun and she wears ebony black glasses on her nose.

The light is beginning to hurt my eyes. I groan quietly. I close my eyes so I don't see the doctors approaching. One of them gently hold my cheeks, prying my eyes open slowly. My vision is better now but still a bit blurry at the edges. A few black dots drift away slowly and Dr. Olenski flashes the light in my eyes again.

"Greta." At the sound of my name leaving her lips, I blink. "Greta? Can you hear me?" Slowly, the words compute and I nod weakly. "What's your name?"

I shake my head slightly at the words, not getting them straight away. I mumble something incomprehensible, feeling fatigue set in. My eyes close again and I feel myself drift, only to be woken seconds later by one of the doctors, the blond one.

"You need to stay awake, Miss Belikov." She urges. I feel fingers on my throat again. I don't want to be here. My brain urges me to stay awake but my eyes and body are telling me something different. My eyes drift close again. _Don't wake me up. _

"Greta." My name urges me back to the light filled world. The hospital ceiling comes into view and I feel like I'm at least close to fully awake. The blurry vision I had is mostly gone. So has the need to close my eyes. I don't feel the aches at all apart from my shoulder and arm, although they don't feel as broken or dislocated anymore. "What's your name?"

"Greta Belikov." I murmur. I think it's true. Dr. Olenski looks down at me. I feel something cold flowing into my arm and notice that I'm on a drip and on blood.

"How old are you?" She asks next. Eighteen, I'm eighteen. Or am I seventeen?

"Eighteen. Or seventeen. One or the other." My voice sounds raspy and breathless.

"Eighteen." Dr. Olenski corrects me. "Where do you live?"

"At the academy. With my dad."

"Good." She writes down something on her clipboard. When she's done, she asks: "How do you feel, Greta?" I don't speak for a few moments, pondering the question.

"Sore. Tired. Groggy. A mixture of all." Confusion hits me. "Why am I here? I was in..." Trailing off, I close my eyes for a second or so before re-opening them.

"You were in South Carolina. With Guardian Smith and Alto."

"I was in a house. With stringoi. Lots of them." Tears well in my eyes as I remember what happened. "They took me to get to my dad." My dad. Alarm fills my body to the brim. "My dad." My breathing quickens as panic makes home in my stomach. I sit up. "Where is he? Is he alright? He's not dead, is he?" I would never forgive myself if I was the cause of my father's death.

Dr. Olenski tsks me back down, shaking her head. She smiles grimly at me. "Your father is fine. He's outside with your mother, along with the whole royal family, your uncle and the alchemist, Sydney. Your grandfather and mother." She says. I feel my chest lighten. "Also, Guardian Alto and Smith."

"How many were there? In the house? How many stringoi were there?" I ask. Dr. Olenski looks at me for a few moments, hesitant. When she does answer, it's in a low voice.

"Close to one hundred." I gasp. That's a huge number. I mean the house was big, well the parts I saw, but I didn't think it could hold as many stringoi as one hundred. Plus a few dozen humans. I stare wide-eyed up at her.

"But that's so many. That's a _big _number." I emphasise the word 'big'. I really don't see how they could've had that many stringoi in the same place without one of them killing a few. There have been large groups of stringoi, but not as many as that, maybe fifty at most. But one hundred isn't normal. Then another thought thrusts into my head. "How many guardians were dispatched?" Oh God, if there were a hundred stringoi, the guardian lose would have been astronomical. That sick feeling boils up again.

"One hundred and fifty. Forty were killed." Forty. Forty guardians were killed because of me. Forty guardians who had families, who may have had children, who had mothers. Fathers. All of them grieving because me. Tears roll down my cheeks and drip onto my hospital gown. I've just ripped away someone's son, daughter, mother, father. They'll never see them again and I come out of it alive and well. No one I love was murdered and that's what makes me feel even worse. Then I think that some of the guardians from the academy that were in the rescue mission. I have just lowered the guardian number by forty. Forty. Forty lives that I just ripped from this life. People who I didn't even know.

"I caused that. I caused all that death." I whisper hoarsely. "That is all my fault." Dr. Olenski puts her finger under my chin. She looks at me worriedly.

"Sweetheart, that was not your fault. The guardians who were involved offered their help to get you. They knew what they were walking into. They knew death faced them."

"It doesn't change the fact that if it weren't for me they would all be alive." I grumble tearfully. "They would still be alive, protecting their academy, if it weren't for me." And it was true. I did this. All of this was me. "And I just laid around sleeping."

"Stringoi endorphins are strong, Greta. I don't know if you noticed but you have a near thirty bite marks on your body. They took most of your blood which is the reason your hooked up to that thing." she points to the tubes. "You couldn't have helped it. I'm surprised you woke up this soon. Your blood lose was great, over half." She says. "When you were brought to me, your pulse was under the amount beats it should be. You were dehydrated, food deprived and the amount of blood taken from your body... It's close to a miracle that you survived." Dr. Olenski averts her eyes for a moment.

"My arm," I say. "And shoulder. They broke and dislocated them." I don't move my shoulder just in case it's still not in place. Dr. Olenski nods her head.

"Your radius was nearly shattered. It's still broken but its on the mend. Your shoulder is back in place but I wouldn't move it for a while. You'll be needing a cast." She says before adding. "Her majesty offered her assistance by I declined. I hope that was alright."

"It was right of you to refuse her help. She shouldn't be wielding it much anyway." I say. Oh well, I always wanted a cast, so that's good. I smile dryly up at her.

"Do you want to see you family?" I nod and Dr. Olenski gets up. She walks to the door. Before she opens it she tells me: "You need to stay lying down. I know it's hard for you Hathaway women to do so but try." I smile at her happily. She closes the door as she leaves.

I lay there for a while, just staring at the ceiling. Soon, I hear the shuffle of feet outside and the click as the door opens to revel the whole family.

My mother and father enter first, followed by Aunty Lissa and Uncle Christian. Next comes Adrian and Sydney, Janine Hathaway and Abe Mazur trailing behind them. Finally, Sam and Stan enter. They all look grim but with a feeling of relief hanging around them.

My mother and father step forward and walk to the side of the bed. Dad drops to his knees and plants a kiss on my forehead. He's extraordinarily tall, so pretty much his whole upper body is above the bed's side. He whispers things in my ear in Russian, telling me how sorry he is.

"No Papa, no. It's not your fault." My Russian shakes slightly as I speak. Tears well up in my eyes as my dad keeps apologising. I lift his chin with a jittery finger. "You did what you thought was best for me, Papa. You did nothing wrong." I see a few tiny tears rolling down his cheeks. His lack of control over his emotions is so touching. My eyes shift to behind him. My mother stands with one hand on my father's back. Tears fall freely from her eyes. I never thought I'd see Rose Hathaway cry, nor the famous Dimitri Belikov but here they are, with tears staining their cheeks red, their eyes bloodshot. "Hi, mum." I say quietly. She lets out a soft, strangled sound and drops to her knees next to dad, bringing my non-damaged hand to her cheek, closing her eyes for a moment or so.

I look over to Aunty Lissa, whose clutching uncle Christian, with tears sliding down her cheeks. She walks to the other side of the bed, just looking down at me, brushing my hair back from my face. I feel my bottom lip tremor slightly. I lean into the caress, closing my eyes. When I open my eyes again, I see that Uncle Christian has joined Lissa, standing beside her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. She leans her head against his, just resting there. Adrian and Sydney stand at the end of the bed, looking down it at me. Sydney is holding Adrian's arm and pressing her chest to it, her head resting on his shoulder. I smile slightly at them. Both return it, and Sydney's blond hair shimmers in the light.

Stan, Sam, Janine and Abe stay to the back of the room, waiting. I want to sit up, to look at them, to see their faces. My dad strokes my face as my tears dry up, leaving my face tight and tough. "Stan and Sam. I want to see them." I say to dad. He nods his head and gestures for them to come forward. When they appear, I smile at them. "Thank you. Both of you for protecting me. I don't think I would've made it through without you." Stan smiles, a full, humorous smile.

"Yes, you would've. You have Hathaway blood in you." I laugh lightly and I see my mum smile.

"Really though, thank you. Both of you. I mean it." Both guardians give me a warm smile and walk back to where they were standing before. "Grandma? Grandpa?" I say. In a second both are standing where the guardians were. Abe has one of his scarves around his neck and Janine has her guardian outfit on.

"I thought I told you not to call us that. We're not old yet." Abe says and holds Janine's waist pulling her toward him in a sort of hug. She leans against him.

"_Yet_." I draw out the word. Abe smiles at me, his golden stud gleaming in his ear. I look over to my grandma and I see she's suppressing something. A laugh maybe. I smile at her. It's feels very couple-y in the room right now. Everyone but Stan and Sam are together. I'm not sure but I don't think Stan's gay.

"How are you, Greta?" Janine asks. She has a funny look that I think may be concern. Seeing as my mum grew up at the academy, she didn't really see much of grandma. They had a patchy relationship, as I've been told by many. But it all seems fine now and if she's here it means she's taken time off from her work to see me, to make sure I'm alright.

"Really groggy. Tired. Sore in a few places. Dizzy sometimes." I say. "Nothing to worry about. I trying to think that I've had a two week long migraine or fainted or something. Like its a normal day, that I just got knocked out in training. Something along those lines." The room stays silent for a few moments. It feels awkward.

"What you went through in the last week or so isn't normal, Greta." Stan says from the corner. I lift my head, seeing as I can't sit up, and see that his arms are crossed over his chest. "Greta you should look at yourself in the mirror. You're pale. You have marks and bruises all over my body-"

"Then a really rough training session." I say, almost angrily. "I don't particularly want to think about what actually happened. So I'm going to think about it this way." I sigh, suddenly thinking I've offended Stan in some way. "Sorry. I don't mean to yell. I'm not angry, just really exhausted." Stan's gaze casts its self to the ground. Sam speaks up.

"You know she killed one of them?" He addresses the room. That Asian stringoi back in Goose Creek. I did kill her. "Back at the house in Goose Creek. Before we were taken." Dad looks at me worriedly. Was he worried about my mental stability? I heard that no one got over their first kills quickly. My mum had her first kills at seventeen, when her friend Mason had died at the hands of a stringoi. She cut both their heads off with a blunt sword. She told me that afterwards that it took her a bit of time to get over it.

But now, I don't feel anything. No remorse. No sadness at the loss. I suppose I shouldn't feel anything. I killed the enemy, that's what I've been trained to do. Although, it does feel like I'm being cold and heartless as I think that I feel nothing for the lost. But then again, the lost was a stringoi. If I hadn't killed her, she could've murdered many more people. Innocent people. It was such a big philosophical question. Is it right to kill one person to hypothetically save many more? I don't know.

Back in the here-and-now, Sam is still speaking. Whatever he was saying, Stan was agreeing with him. Dad turned back to me, a face set once more.

"Well, she's the next Rose Hathaway." He says. My mum smiles.

"It's such an honour to carry on the roll." I giggle then yawn. I wasn't lying when I said I was tired. There's a knock at the door. Dr. Olenski sicks her head in. She walks through the door and says:

"Sorry, but I need you all to leave now. Greta needs to rest and heal." Everyone in the room nods their heads mutely. They don't all leave at once though. Sydney and Adrian say good-bye, Adrian giving me a kiss on the cheek. Stan and Sam leave after them, nodding their heads at me in acknowledgement. Abe and Janine come up next to me, grandma giving me a light hug and grandpa giving me a kiss, saying something in Turkish I don't understand. Once they leave, only Lissa, Christian, mum and dad are left. Lissa gives me a lingering kiss on my forehead, the same place grandma gave me one. Christian places a hand on my cheek before saying good-bye. They leave and I'm left with my parents.

We don't talk for a bit. My eyes are closed as they caress my hair and face, feeling myself relax. When I was in South Carolina, I felt very secluded, cut off from everyone, so the feeling of having _both _my parents around me, watching over me, is a welcome feeling. Not seeing my mother very often also didn't help my feeling of loneliness in South Carolina. But now I feel complete and happy.

"Dimitri, we do have to leave, doctors orders." My mothers voice sounds like her normal one. Sarcastic and filled with funniness. I open my eyes and smile up at her. My dad, on the other hand, doesn't seem all that happy about leaving my side. But finally he nods and gets up off his knees. Mum clings to him, resting her head in his shoulder.

"We're going to come back tomorrow, Greta." He says before planting a long kiss in my forehead. He retracts and brushes my hair from my face. My mother follows suit. Dr. Olenski is standing by the door, clipboard in hand, awaiting my parents departure. When then finally retreat to the door, they both look back at me and smile. I return it and they leave. Dr. Olenski makes her way over to the bed.

"Sleep now, Greta. You need it in order to get better." So, following the doctors orders I do. I fall into a dreamless, restless sleep.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18:**

According to the doctor, I have to stay in the hospital / nurses office for the week to recover from the blood loss and get some food into me. No students were allowed to see me, only the guardians if need be and family. And I have quite a larger family, even if they're not all immediate.

Like my parents promised, they came back everyday of the week I was in the hospital. I got better everyday. At least that's what Dr. Olenski said. Really, I felt the same. At least until the last day. The day before I was discharged, it was as if energy had filled me to the brim, on the verge of exploding out of my body. I felt jumpy, but not in the paranoid way. I wanted to go outside and run around but Dr. Olenski said I'm not I do anything to strenuous, and I wasn't even out if the hospital yet.

It was better by far to the stringoi den, but it was also another form of hell for me. I wasn't allowed to do anything but sleep and eat meals. I didn't feel as hungry as I did in the house, I just seemed to loose my appetite a bit. Believe me, I love food. It has to be one of my most favourite things in the world but it just made me feel sick, which is funny because I had been basically starved of it for more than a week.

Later in the day before I could leave, Alberta came to see me. It turned out she had survived the rescue mission. But whatever she wanted to say to me, I didn't want to hear. I knew that whatever it was had to do with my trials or school work or training. I already knew that I couldn't take my trials or continue my training, at least for a little while anyway. My trials were in less than two weeks and I couldn't do them with a healing shoulder and broken arm. It was the same deal with training. Lissa had once again offered to heal me but like before I said no. She didn't need to waste her magic on me. Especially me. I didn't deserve it, nor her pity, nor anyone else's.

Alberta drags a chair over to the side of my bed and perches herself there. I looked over at her. She returned my gaze with a grimness. Yep, this was most definitely about trials.

"I'm sorry I haven't seen you, Greta." She says. Her eyes stay on mine.

"You have better things to do than worry about than me right now." I say and smile.

"Greta-"

"I know why your here, Guardian Petrov. I already figured that I can't take part in my trials. I knew this ever since I woke up." I say and she grimaces.

"I know that this is going to cause some problems...in terms of your future. You graduate in mere weeks, and since you can't do your trials, you can't get your Promise mark. But, your father and I have been talking. You will graduate but you will take your trials next year. You will not receive your Promise mark until then."

"That's great." I say. I mean it too. I'll take what I can get. I smile at Alberta warmly and thank her. She returns the smile but her face turns serious.

"Also, Guardian Alto and Guardian Smith have given me some more information about while you were away." Away. Yeah, 'away' isn't the word I would use.

"What kind on information?" My heart hammers in my chest, thinking about...

"Both told me that...the stringoi...that they, well, raped you." She stammers. I decide I never want to hear Alberta stammer ever again. It doesn't sound right. "Eight times."

"I was awake while they did it twice. The other times were when I was unconscious." I feel hot tears brim my eyes and a lump in my throat form. The last time I checked with either guardian, the number had only been six. Well, another few times after that then. I swallow the lump quickly and blink the tears away. I can't-I won't-cry in front of Alberta. Nor anyone else.

"Oh, Sweetheart." I'd been called that name a lot lately. It was weird being babied when I was eighteen. By a stoic, experienced guardian was even weirder.

"No," I say firmly. "I don't want your pity. Or anyone else's for that matter. I don't want to be looked after as if I can't cope." Alberta look indifferent for a moment before her face changes.

"I understand, Greta. I know you can cope, after all you're half your mother." I smile slightly at her words. I never believed I was anything like my mum. I wasn't witty or sarcastic in any way. I found that I was more like my dad. I was quiet and closed up. I tried to stay under the radar and do well in my classes. I didn't like being the centre of attention. I hated, in fact. It just wasn't for me. I wasn't an exhibitionist, not in the slightest.

"I can't wait to get out of here." I say quietly. "I don't like feeling closed in and limited to one room." That had only become true recently. I sigh. I feel stiff. From being confined to a bed.

"I hear you'll be out of here tomorrow morning." One more sleep. "Dr. Olenski says your healing up quicker than she expected."

I got the cast put on my arm and a support for my shoulder a few days ago. Thankfully both were on the same side, so it doesn't stop the use of both my arms. I was told I'd be on a Moroi schedule. Well sort of, seeing as I can't wield any elements. I wonder if I would be in any of Hamish's classes. The thought makes me smile. "But how are you feeling?"

"I'm feel as though I'm getting better. But I never thought I was in that worse of a state to stay here for a week."

"Oh, Greta, you were. The amount of blood you lost was very high. We we're worried you fall into a sleep and wouldn't wake up again. I've never seen either of your parents act the way they did while you were in here. Your dad lost his calm and your mum lost... Well whatever makes her Rose Hathaway."

"Sarcasm?"

"Not quite. It was more her cool. Which, as I'm sure you can understand, for guardians, is unusual." Alberta folds her hands in her lap, her eyes cast downwards. I frown.

"Something seems to be worrying you, Albe- Guardian Petrov." Alberta looks up at my words. She smiles at me, but it's a strange look.

"No, nothing you need to worry yourself with, Greta." I nod. The room falls silent for a few awkward moments. Alberta exhales loudly before getting up. "Well, I should be going. I'm glad that your feeling better, Greta." After that she leaves hastily, shutting the door quietly as she goes.

Well, that was uneventful. I still don't feel tired in the slightest. I feel even more restless. I need to get out of here soon, but I bet that door is locked. Probably to make sure that no one can get who isn't allowed to. Or to make sure I can't get out. Probably both. I try to sleep but it doesn't come. I need a book or something. The ones I have with me, I've already read at least three times each. I'm not even allowed to get out of bed and walk around the room. Even just a bit.

It may have only been ten minutes, but when Dr. Olenski came in to check on me, it felt like it had been hours. She checks my vitals again, asks if I feel any dizziness or pain in my head. I say no and then she leaves but not before telling me to sleep. I groan inwardly. I can't sleep now. It's a task that seems impossible.

Trying my hardest to let unconsciousness take me, my mind wanders to my parents. They'd come to see me this morning and dad said he'd come back later. My mum had to do something with the school guardians that I have no idea about. But his visit was hours away and I couldn't do anything.

If only Hamish or one of my cousins would visit. I realise that I want to see Maisy and Lachlan. When Aunty Lissa visited, her pregnancy didn't show but inside her was a little boy or girl. A new life. And I couldn't wait to meet him or her. I hope it's a girl. It would be funny to see Hamish or Lachlan go into that big, protective brother mode when and if they saw even one boy give their sisters the slightest gaze and a smile. I had always wanted a big brother to protect me in times of trouble. But no, stupid dhampir-dhampir birth defect.

I must've nodded off to sleep for a few hours because when I open my eyes again my dad is sitting next to me on a chair, my hand in his. His head's down and I think his eyes are shut. He often did this when he was contemplating things silently, lost in his own world full of cowboys and leather dusters and 80s music.

"Dad?" I see his eyes shoot open but his head stays down. I've broken the spell that held him in his own head, it sometimes takes a few seconds to wake up. Dad lifts his head slowly. I give him a grin which he returns slightly. His back straightens and he becomes tall again. Those deep brown eyes are filled with despair and sadness. "Hey." I say.

"Did I wake you?" He asks as he laces his fingers through mine.

"No. I did that myself." My voice sound a little croaky. "How've you been. Anything interesting happen since this morning?" I giggle a little. Dad smiles.

"Not really, no." The accent in his voice comes out a bit more pronounced than normal.

"Where's mum? I heard she had a meeting of some type." Dad smiles a little more.

"It's not _really _a meeting. She's just saying 'hi' to everyone. You do not know how many times she's said thank you to Guardian Alto."

"I heard they didn't particularly like each other when she was younger." Dad chuckles.

"Oh, she didn't. But she's so grateful to him and Guardian Smith." Dad adds. "And so am I. I'm so glad your alive, Greta. I don't know what I would've done if I had lost you and been the cause." Dad casts his gaze back down to his lap.

When my dad had just been turned back to a dhampir, he went into a sort of depression. He felt as though he couldn't be forgiven by my mum nor anyone else. In the early stages, he had pledged his loyalty to my aunt, saying that she was his saviour because she drove the charmed stake through his heart. I could understand that, but if he went back into that state then I would never forgive myself.

"What happened back in South Carolina had nothing to do with you. You thought it was best for my safety, as did the other guardians who were involved. If you blame yourself for something that couldn't be helped, then so should they. But you did nothing wrong. It was nothing you could've done to stop it."

"But if you had stayed here..."

"If I had stayed here I would've put the entire school in danger. The stingoi may have gone as far as attack. And that would've been my fault. I would be responsible for the death of children, guardians and Moroi. I would not be able to live with myself if that was my fault. It was probably safest to send me away, for you, for my cousins, for everyone." I finish with a sigh. "You will not go into that depression because of me. I will not let you. Nor will you go pledge your loyalty to Stan or Sam either." Dad nods his head solemnly. "I'd love you no matter what you did. No matter what, I would never stop loving you. You're my father, you are half the reason I'm here. And, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm here out of your love for mum and me. So I forbid you to be angry with yourself over me. You've been through enough already without this hanging on your shoulders."

Dad laughs at my comments. I would've thought with him being such a private person, he wouldn't let me even mention my parents love life. But really, everyone here and at court, including the guardians, knew enough about their sex life. It's extraordinarily loud to say the least. It's absolutely disgusting. And, seriously, that shit is _loud. _

"I'm glad you're better, Greta." He says and leans in to kiss my forehead.

"You know how I can't get out of this bed to even walk around?" Dad nods. "They never said anything about carrying." Dad throws his head and smiles widely.

"You really want to get out if here, don't you?"

"More than anything." I say hopefully.

"Well, I guess you'll have to wait until tomorrow." I scowl at him. I grab one of my pillows and throw it at him. He lets it hit him before bringing it down to his lap.

"You're so mean." I whine. "I'm fine. I should be able to leave."

"You're just like your mother." He says, putting the pillow back under my head. "She can't stand staying in the same place for a long period of time."

"Why is it I got all her bad traits?" I ask.

"No, you got the best of her." Dad's voice goes slightly dreamy. I click in front of his eyes.

"Of course _you_ think that." I huff. "What time is it?" Dad looks down at his bare wrist.

"Well, according to my watch its about five a.m." So, it was getting late. Actually it was really late. I'm meant to be asleep. Most of the people on campus would be asleep, well apart from the party animals that seem to have parties every night of the week. I really don't know how they do it to be honest.

"Don't you have a shift of something, oh, I don't know, two hours ago. Shouldn't you be at your post?" Dad smiles a little.

"No, I was given the week off. To check in with you, to see how you were going." He frowns. "To be a proper father to you." His head falls again.

"You were always a proper father. You left your job up at court, which I must say was quite a good job, to come back down to the academy to look after me."

Our conversation has been quiet. It was nice, intimate. A conversation between father and daughter. I had always known my mother had loved my dad unconditionally, through thick and thin, in sickness and health, but now I got exactly why she loved him so much. It was the way he reacted in times of need, the way he spoke, the softness of his voice as words left his lips, his actions. I suppose that's how all fathers act when their daughters are hurt or are in pain. I didn't ever want to loose him, ever. I wanted to watch him grow old and be a granddad to my children, to watch him run after them as they laughed and giggled.

"Why are you crying, Greta? Are you in pain?" His face switches into something that masks concern. I lift my vacant hand to my cheeks. I feel wet tears running down them. Dad gently pulls my wrist down and wipes the salty water away. I lean into the palm of his hand and just rest there. His thumb strokes my cheek softly. I feel so at home now, with him here, comforting me.

"No," I whisper. "I'm not in pain. I'm happy. I'm happy to see you, that's all." I feel more tears well in my eyes and I can't stop them. I don't blink them away, I don't want to.

"Oh, my sweet Greta." He says. I lean my head forward and it hits his forehead softly. "I love you with all my heart, Greta. Apart from your mother, there is no one I love more."

We stay like that for a while. My tears dry up quickly, leaving tracks of salty residue in their wake. I feel completely at peace with everything. With the world. With myself. The only thing that breaks my peaceful haze is one thought.

"Dad?" I open my eyes and pull back. "I meant to ask this a while ago, but... Back in Chesnee, were you a part of that?"

"Yes, I was." He says, his eyes cast down to his lap again. "I was blinded by hatred at what they were doing to you. I tore through anyone who came across my path, not thinking about age or power, just you. I need to make sure you were OK."

"Did all of them...die?" I ask sorrowfully.

"We attacked while the sun was up so none of them could escape. So, yes." He says. "You were right. All of them were old. The oldest eight-hundred."

"That must've been hard." I say, and it would've been. Eight-hundred is old.

"It took a while to kill her." So, it was a her. Wow. My mind wanders to Nazareth and Cornelius. Dad said all of them died which means so did they. And Leon.

"It's all such a waste." I say quietly. "All of that death." I look over at dad and see that he's nodding. "I feel like I should go to church and pray for their souls or something."

"Their souls were corrupted and cut off from God a while ago, Greta. They chose to be the way they were, to kill mercilessly. They do not deserve your thoughts, let alone your prayers." His words are true. Even if they were forced into awakening, they murdered innocent people. People with families, children maybe. They manipulated their victims and killed them for food. Dad was right, their souls were already too far gone. Their was no way _I _could do anything. Although, maybe Uncle Adrian or Aunty Lissa could. But putting them in harms way for the sake of one corrupt soul wasn't worth it.

"They said that if you failed to turn up or you died, they would awaken me and make me kill Sam or Stan. And I don't think I would've been able to stop if I was awakened. I hate thinking of myself like that, without control over hunger or cruelty. My only thought being how I could torture people and cause them pain. No love, no feeling whatsoever."

"It's a horrible feeling. I would know." He says. "At the time, it's just primal instinct. Kill and feed yourself. But in the aftermath, at least if you return to your original state, you're burdened with self guilt and hatred."

"I would've pushed people away. Anyone who tried to help me." I say, playing with my gown.

"I know. You would've. You are my daughter after all." I am actually quite sure I would've reacted the same way he did after he was returned to his dhampir form.

I yawn, feeling fatigue fall over me. "You should sleep, Greta. You need your rest and when you wake up you'll be able to leave." He smiles at me and gets up.

"Finally." I mutter. "Can you stay?" I ask. "Only until I fall asleep." I grab onto his wrist, tugging at it expectantly. Dad smiles down at me and I feel like I'm five again.

"Of course." He says and takes place back on the fluffy looking chair. I yawn again and lower my head onto one of the two pillows on the bed.

It's one of those times where as soon as my head hits the pillow I'm out. Maybe an hour later, I'm not sure, I feel a soft kiss press against my forehead. The room is dark and I hear the door close gently. I take no notice and continue my dreaming.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19: **

As promised, I was discharged from the hospital. Dr. Olenski checked my vitals yet again and said I could leave. I grabbed my Robert Graves book about Greek Myths and thrust the small bag of clothes over my none damaged shoulder. I threw the doors open and struted out with my the Arctic Monkeys blaring in my ears, listening to Alex Turner's sinister sounding voice and guitar play.

As I walk, I get stares from dhampirs and Moroi alike. The bites marks on my body have long since healed but lift in the wake small shiny scars on my body. Really, I feel like someone from the Mortal Instruments. They have those Mark scars dribbled all over their bodies, don't they? And as they do, I try and think of the scars as medals of battle. But then again, I wasn't involved with the actual fighting and killing part.

As I get deeper into the school, the crowds of people become thicker. It's Saturday afternoon for us, so of course everyone is out doing their thing. My black Converse are silent under foot as I walk. I catch the eyes of some guardians and look away from their gazes. That feeling of betrayal comes back to me, settling in the pit of my stomach. I walk quicker, becoming self conscious. The guardians, at least some of them, bare wounds on their faces and arms from the fight. A fight that, in my opinion, wasn't worth it.

I don't see Stan or Sam at all on my way back to my room, and the trip seems to take ages. But that may have also been because I nearly toppled over Hamish Ozera. My gaze was on the floor so I didn't see him at all. He grabs my forearms, including my broken one, and tries to right me. Never in my life had I felt so clumsy.

I raise my face quickly and am about to apologise when I recognise his face. Taking my headphones out of my ears, I look at him. His icy-blue eyes look tired somehow, his face looking worn, lines of fatigue set into his skin like concrete. His hands are still on my arms and his mouth is open, as if he's about to speak.

Before I can even think to say anything, he pulls me to his chest, hugging me tightly. I feel a very slight twinge of pain but I ignore it. Closing my eyes, I take in his scent, feeling of his chest rising and falling. The jumper he's wearing feels soft, very much like cashmere. I bury my face into his neck and I hear him sigh with relief.

We stay there for minutes. A comforting warmth radiates off him and I feel him squeeze closer to him. My broken arm was set across my rib-cage and it may have been annoying him, though he doesn't pull away. His hands rest on the small of my back and at the nap of my neck, his fingertips just reaching into my hair.

"Hamish." I whisper quietly to myself, testing it on my lips. "Hamish." I snuggle into him a little more, breathing in the scent of his cologne. Hamish pulls back first.

"Greta." He begins. "Your alright." A smile adorns his face as he looks me over. His eyes stop at my cast and his face darkens slightly. "I heard what happened...with the stringoi. How they-" I put up my un-damaged arm, telling him to stop.

"No, I...I don't want to talk about it." I look into his eyes almost dreamily. "You look..." I pause. "...tired." Hamish smirks.

"I thought you were going to say 'sexy', but I can work the rugged, just-got-out-of-bed look if that's what you want." I punch his shoulder playfully.

"It's fine. Besides I'm done with boys for now at least." I say. "Anyway, how's have things been at the academy. Have you specialised in the past few weeks." 'Specialising' was when a Moroi become more dominant with one if the five elements. Hamish hasn't, at least to my knowledge. Aunty Lissa is worried he's going to specialise in Spirit, and, quite frankly, so am I.

Hamish smiles at me. So he has? He brings up a flat palm and a small ball of fire appears out of no where. It shifts into different shapes. A bird, then the sun, then a heart.

"To answer your question, in case this demo wasn't enough, I did." He says and the flame vanishes into thin air again.

"Well, someone's a late bloomer." I tease him with a giggle.

"Please," he says. "If you saw what was in my pants-"

"-I would laugh at its size." I cackle. "We've been through this before." Hamish smiles at me, his eye lashes casting small but noticeable shadows onto his cheek bones. "Now, I hear that your brother and sister are here-" Before I can even finish my sentence, I hear a shrill voice call out my name. Grinning, I turn around.

A bouncing head of blond curls runs towards me, screaming happily. I reach out a pick up Maisy with one arm, which is easier than first expected, and brush her messy hair out of the way. Her small arms wrap around my neck and she giggles, giving me a big, sloppy kiss on my cheek. Behind her, I see the tall figure of Uncle Christian. He has his forehead in his hands and is shaking his head.

"That's exactly what I told you not to do, Maisy." Christian sighs dramatically. "Sorry, Greta. Maisy wanted to see you. We were going to your room to see if you were there so we could say hello." Uncle Christian moves forward and reaches out for Maisy. She clings to me more tightly and buries her golden head in my neck. I hear her softly giggle, her breath tickling my throat. I know she doesn't mean it, but I feel the point of her small fangs prick my skin and I nearly drop her in shock.

Me being a dhampir gives me quick reflexes and I hastily right myself. That would be embarrassing if I dropped my six-year-old cousin in front of her dad and big brother. Maisy lifts her head at the slightest feeling of G-Force and her arms loosen around my neck slightly. She looks at me in fear and begins to cry softly. I flick my hip and lift her up higher.

"Shh." I whisper to her and caress her cheek. "It's okay. I'm not going to drop you. I'm sorry." I lifted Maisy's chin and looked into her green eyes, now bloodshot from her tears. "I'm sorry I scared you, Maisy. Can you forgive me?"

"I wasn't crying because you almost dropped me." Maisy's little voice wavers slightly. She places a small hand on my cheek and kisses me lightly on my lips. I smile at her cheeky, yet red, face.

"Then what, Beautiful?" I murmur into her blond hair. Maisy drops her hand to my neck, onto one of my ugly scars. I frown and my gaze drops.

"These." Maisy says. I know she means well and doesn't mean to make me upset but I feel tears well in my eyes. I gently grab her wrist and pull into away from my throat. I'm not really into any vampire going near my neck for a while even though the need for their bite still cry's out everyday.

Uncle Christian pulls Maisy from my arms and rests her on his hip. He looks slightly angry. Oh no, I don't want Maisy getting in trouble because of me. People have had to take the punishment of my problems for too long.

"I told you not to say anything, Maisy." His voice sounds slightly annoyed. Maisy begins to sob slightly at his words. "Apologise to Greta, Maisy."

"Oh no. She doesn't have to do that. I know she meant no harm." I say quickly before Maisy can open her mouth. "It's fine, Christian. Really."

Christian looks back at his young daughter's wet face. Maisy buries her damp cheeks into her father's neck and shoulder, not wanting to meet my gaze. I frown sorrowfully. "Maisy?" My voice is small. "It's OK. Look at me, Sweetheart." Maisy turns her head slowly away from her father's shoulder. She sniffles and lifts her head. She whispers something in Christian's ear and he puts her down. She runs towards me and grabs onto my leg. I crouch down and hug her. I pick her up again and she giggles as she latches onto my neck again.

"Can you play with me?" She asks hopefully. I smile at her and shake my head.

"I can't right now. In an hour maybe. I need to go to my room and do a couple of things." Maisy's head falls slightly. "I never said I wouldn't, Maisy." She giggles.

"You know, Hamish likes you." My mouth falls open in mock astonishment.

"Does he?" Maisy nods. I turn slightly to Hamish and see he's blushing a little. "But he's a boy. Boys have cooties. They're _gross." _Maisy laughs. I hear that little cheeky tone come back to her and her face lights up in a smile, her green eyes glow luminously as she giggles.

"I think that's enough, Maisy." Hamish says to his little sister, trying to grab her from my grasp. Maisy squeals into my ear. The bag I had over my shoulder is on the floor and I trip on it. I fall on my ass, Maisy still in my grip. Her little hands dig into my jumper and hair, but I hear her shrill laughter.

"God, I missed you, Maisy." I say and give her a kiss on her beautiful, rosy-red cheek. She is the reason I want siblings. I begin to tickle her and her high-pitched laughter reaches my ears in a joyous chorus.

"Stop it!" She cries, laughing. "Stop it!" Maisy rolls away from me.

"You know," Hamish steps forward. "What you're doing would be hot if it were any other girl but my sister." Christian comes up behind him and slaps the back of his head hard as I cuddle Maisy to my chest.

"Not in front of your sister, Hamish. Control your testosterone infused thoughts." Chirstian's voice is warning. He scowls slightly over at his son, who returns it with a glare. Hamish cradles his the back of his head gingerly.

Maisy hugs me. I'm surprised I haven't damaged my arm more. "Come on, Maisy. You'll see Greta later." Christian comes forward and lifts up his daughter who giggles. Christian kisses Maisy's cheek as Hamish offers me a hand up. I take it gratefully, not knowing if I would be able to do to with one arm. I brush myself off and grab my bag and iPod that were discarded when Maisy ran to me.

Slinging my bag over my shoulder once more, I see Maisy has her hand in her father's.

"Bye bye, Greta!" Maisy yells as she walks away with Uncle Christian. I smile and wave to her then to Christian. As they recede, I turn back to Hamish.

"Well, I better go. I have a few things to sort out." I say and my gaze returns to the ground for the hundredth time in a couple of minutes. "I'll see you around, Hamish." I begin to walk away and place my headphones back into my ears, where the Arctic Monkeys still play loud and clear. Hamish doesn't come after me and I make it to my room without much more trouble. The door is unlocked and everything is as I left it, just emptier. I never got any of my clothes back, and the ones I'm wearing are my mum's old trackies and t-shirt. The pants are half way up my calf seeing as I'm six inches taller than my mum.

My bed is rumpled, just the way I left it and some of my dirty washing that I didn't take with me is on the floor, which is pretty much all underwear and CC cup bras, all of them black or red. I sigh and switch on the lights one by one. I plonk my bag down by the door. Switching off my iPod, I take the headphones out and place the device in its dock. I turn on The Jungle Giants and play them softly. Sam Hales sings about not needing his sanity while I fall down onto my soft bed and close my eyes. If my shoulder weren't still healing I would've put my arms above my head but the slightest movements if my shoulder causes me discomfort. So, I must lie there for a while listening to soft music lift to my ears and soothe me.

I don't know how long I was there for but my little coma is broken by a soft knock at the door. With a soft groan, I get up off the bed and walk sullenly to the door. One of the last people I thought I'd see is standing there. Hamish stands with his hands by his sides, his head down. It comes up as he hears the door creak open. There's something off about his face. He looks worried. Anxious is a better word. "Hamish-"

Hamish's hands reach forward and clasp my cheeks between them tenderly. Before I can react, he leans forward and presses his lips to mine. I'm too stunned to do anything at first and stay still for a few moments. But, as I recover, my lips start moving against his slowly. With Coldplay playing in the background this feels very...well, I don't know what it feels like. With Hamish on my lips, I'm past caring. My hands snake up his chest to dig themselves into his black hair. He walks me backwards into the room slowly and closes the door with his foot softly, never breaking the kiss. His hands are on my waist and make no move to change position. The kiss doesn't become faster. It was soft and sweet. This is how I would picture a first kiss.

Gently, Hamish pulls away from me but our noses touch and we lean our foreheads together. My eyes stay closed.

"I'm sorry." Hamish says. "If I waited any longer I would loose my edge and not kiss you." His finger tips are behind both my ears and fold into my hair. Hamish strokes my head softly and I breath steadily. "I wanted to kiss you before you left, but your dad and Kirova were there. It wouldn't have been right to you if I kissed you in front of them." From Hamish's neck, my hands travel back down his chest and clutch at his waist. I pull him closer to me and our lips just brush each others. I hear Hamish swallow loudly. "I think I'm in love with you, Greta."

My eyes open with a start. I wasn't dreaming but a dark thought makes it a nightmare.

"Hamish, we can't be together. You're the queen's eldest and first born son. And even if you weren't, we still couldn't be together. Dhampir and Moroi relationships... They don't work out. You need to have a relationship with one of your own. Have Moroi children, to continue your line." This was my parents all over again. But what was sad was that, no matter how much I fought with others over his so-called love for me, we couldn't ever be together. That was the cruel reality of the situation. There was no loop-hole for us. No secret affair or even flirtation. It was impossible. I guess Hathaway women have a habit of fallen in love with someone forbidden.

"Greta, I...I've thought about that. I have and I know all of that. And you... Well, when you graduate next year, I want you to be my guardian." I look into his endless blue Ozera eyes in astonishment, my mouth hangs open slightly and in his arms, I feel vulnerable, as if I'm raw and secret-less. "I've asked for you to protect me out in the world. To come with me to university. To guard me. So I can put my life in your hands."

"You trust me enough for that?" I whisper against his cracked lips. "You would trust me with your life?" I swallow. I never thought I'd get a job offer when I haven't even graduated. But this... This doesn't feel like an offer of occupation. It sounds more like a devotion.

"I would trust you with everything I own, material or immaterial. I would trust you with everything I am, Greta. Body, soul and life."

Warm air wraps around me and I think Hamish is creating it. A slight, summery breeze plays with my hair as we both slowly sway to the only Ed Sheeran song I have. The steady beat gives me rhythm and the blues guitar makes me cuddle into Hamish more as we talk intimately. His hands leave my hair and slide down to my waist where they rest and we move with the breeze he's creating.

"I wouldn't," I say. "If I had all that, there is a good chance I would loose it." Hamish smiles and chuckles softly. He pulls me closer until I'm completely pressed against him. I realise in that moment that what I feel for Hamish isn't just some school girl crush but love.

"You could never loose me, Greta. I'll always be here, whether its by your side or on the other side of the world, you'll always have me."

"Hamish, this feels as though we're playing with temptation. You and I both know that we can't be together. It's too difficult."

"I know," he says. "Greta, I would give my mother's throne to my brother if it meant I could be with you." My hands are on his chest and I feel it rising and falling under my palms.

"I not worth that much, Hamish." I say. "I'm not worth your kingdom."

"Your worth to me is more than a million kingdoms." At his words, my hand comes up to stroke his cheek softly. I don't want to speak but reality nags at me.

"Hamish-"

"Shh," he shushes. "Don't talk. Just dance with me, Greta. If we can't be together, I want a keepsake, something to remember you by." I nod and we sway, the sound of Ed Sheeran's words lingering in the air.

_This feels like falling in love. _And I realise that he's right.


End file.
